If this was a game, I already know that I would come out winner
And I'm not bragging, I'ma be in her
But this bitch really think that I'm 'bout to buy her dinner
My steak good, I got a good cut like Splinter
Juicy and hot, such a black bitch temper
Now she wanna talk and chop it up like a blender
But I don't give a fuck and or even listen like Schindler
She's cute but her forehead's big
Got stretch marks like she got four kids
Her legs can't close like the four door hinge Bronco
That O.J. killed the white whores with
A wealthy white girl without the facelift
Lure her with expensive dinners and a nice bracelet
Leave the bitch breathless, what the bitch don't know is that
I'm a mothafuckin' sellout and a rapist
Baby, you're an angel
How about we turn this into a fable of some sort?
You already know you're dead
Ironic 'cause your lipstick's red, of course
I stuff you in the trunk, drunk
'Cause all I really wanna do is fuck and snort blow
If this was a game, I would be considered a mothafuckin' legend
And I ain't trying to gas you like Chevron
But I'm high as fuck bitch, you really need to get on my leverage
Now we're in the cabin, in the middle of (uhh)
Trying to find ways to really stuff you in my cabinet
Dreamy little bastard, I done ran outta' luck so now
It's time for a bloody foot you little rabbit
You're very attractive
And notice that my hat is always the color of cactus
And I hang with wolves 'cause I'm an evil bastard
Pictures of you on my wall no glue, no tape but just cum plastered
Met you at my school, departed at my house
Ended at your panties, started at your blouse
Pushed you down stairs, I took a nap up on the couch
If you wanted a date, don't come
Now you gotta make it easy for you don't run
You call this shit kids, well I call these kids cum
And you call this shit rape but I think that rape's fun
Wait, now it's about eight something
It's late and you stuck down in my base one
Come downstairs with nothing but a shoe string
Yeah bitch this date's done
Baby, you're an angel
How about we turn this into a fable of some sort?
You already know you're dead
Ironic 'cause your lipstick's red, of course
I stuff you in the trunk, drunk
'Cause all I really wanna do is fuck and snort blow
I like my girls how I like my drugs, white
Lord, you're so pretty, lying in my arms
I just got one request, stop breathing
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
