Lyrics:
mr. mac-10,
With the infrared grin, I can't pretend,
Who I be, the s-e-are-v aka billy badgate
Jack you for your safe, with guns in your daughters face
[R. Kelly - talking (continues behind Chorus)]
Roll, cheah, cheah
Roll, cheah, cheah
Roll, cheah, cheah
[Chorus]
You can catch me in the club
the world
Only let's me know that I'm loved
By so many other motherfuckers that ain't you, and it's bugged
'Cause you keep fuckin' with us, we keep
the shades, I see right through it
You ain't stand up on your word, then you's a fool
They're not, chea, they're not, chea, they're not bool
I be wanna see
bass
Your girlfriend screams when M.C.A.'s in the place
He stumbles in the room with the Chivas in his hand
Cold chillin' in the spot
lover, with no gun to my head
Your kisses hold me hostage
And I don't wanna stop it
'Cause I only wanna give it to you
And I want you more than a new pair
mad at me
Why?
(I can't believe this)
Wa', Your girlfriend step to me
No matter what I say, you just don't believe
You know she'd be with it in
girlfriend should.
Bastards sitting right there on the starting line
Stuck the sugar in your gas tank by myself last night
Oh, no, gotta learn this some
just take a walk with me
I just need you right now
I want you by my side
It doesn't feel the same without you
Be my girlfriend
Be my girlfriend
Be my
with me
By the looks I got ya shook up and scared of me
Buckle your seat belt, it's time for takeoff
I don't think you're ready for this jelly
I
Nothin' just kickin' it
Are y'all done?
Nah, what you gon' do today?
Um, pick up my clothes from the cleaners, I needa go get my nails done
Serious?
overstep the critters
Give your ass the willies and your moms'll get the jitters
Quitters turn to losers, losers are forgotten
Tangling my cord with hopes
To meet me cuz, i'm a flirt
And baby don't bring your
Girlfriend to eat cuz, i'm a flirt
Please believe it
Unless your game is tight and you trust her
Then
with me
By the looks I got ya shook up and scared of me
Buckle your seat belt, it's time for takeoff
I don't think you're ready for this jelly
I
me
Yo, you're just gonna get your ass kicked
Homeboy throw in the towel
Your girl got dicked by Ricky Powell
The Godfather of Soul in the belly
are a couple 69ing
It's like Rick James is shooting up your house, nigga
Fuck yo' couch, nigga
You screamin', "Fuck the world!" with your middle
(With a dozen roses
Such would astound you
The joy of children laughing around you
These are the makings of you
And it's true, the makings of you)
not even Hailie
I think my dad's gone crazy
My songs can make you cry, take you by surprise at the same time
Can make you dry your eyes with
Nothin' just kickin' it
Are y'all done?
Nah, what you gon' do today?
Um, pick up my clothes from the cleaners, I needa go get my nails done
Serious?
Can't be messing around with my girlfriend
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
Come on, let me hit it again
Come on, let me sing it again
Won't pretend
you pass me by
I like the way you move your body
Girl I must admit
You're looking real fit
Let's chill for a little bit
I know you wanna get with
to you, and thought that you won't play just like a fool.
Your so-called girlfriends would never lie on you. (No, no.)
So everything they say, girl, it
Goin' off the hook like Latrell Spreewell
I've got the ill technique so you know me fe well
We be kickin bass all up in your face
And when it comes
squirt somebody
But that Benz so fast, it'll jerk your body
And we smokin that Cali dro, totin that calico
Bird man and Kelly mami, let your body roll
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