Lyrics

I love a boss that ain't scared to get his beard wet Daddy fly, I wanna ride him like a learjet Keep it real, I ain't going for no weird shit Got him calling every second asking are you here yet? He just like to hear me say i'm cummin' He asking questions like whose is it when I fuck him I tell him lies like it's yours and I love it I'm just tryna get my nut and then it's right back to hustling Nina Macc, I'm just out here tryna function You lusting and it's nothing, you just better show me something Remember suck don't lick, ooh don't stop, right there that's it I sit on ya face it taste just like candy I sit on ya face it taste just like candy I sit on ya face it taste just like candy I sit on ya face it taste just like candy It taste just like candy I sit on ya face it taste just like candy It taste just like candy I sit on ya face it taste just like candy Just like candy, just like candy Just like, just like, just like candy Just like candy, just like candy I sit on ya face it taste just like candy These hoes lost, they need a role model badly I got more game than their so-called daddy Champagne sipping, you niggas sip brandy I sit on your face it tastes just like candy I don't suck dick, I swallow that shit I don't lease whips I'm a balling-ass bitch Let me give you game, I know you broke ho's jokes I don't charge by the hour shit I charge by the stroke Gentlemen it's the Emacc show I want the luxury sedan, I ain't no E-Class ho These bum niggas tryna talk me out my chips They ain't got nothing to offer, I don't even want the dick Soon as I lick my lips they wanna give me kiss But they can kiss my asshole unless they kissing on this clit Remember suck don't lick, ooh don't stop, right there that's it And I ain't tryna take your man bitch Your man's average, ain't nothing but a fan, shit You doing backflips, bending over backwards For a nigga that just spent a couple racks with A boss bitch and all I gave him was a lap dance Got my legs wrapped around his stomach like The Lap-Band I'm in his brain so he nicknamed me CAT Scan Tapped out broke, now that's what I call a tap dance I'm running circles 'round these bitch niggas He working hard while I'm working on his six figures They got the nerve to try and label me a gold digger But I'm a hustler, definition of a go-getter They say the game's to be sold not told nigga I been riding Benz since I was nineteen years old nigga Remember suck don't lick, ooh don't stop, right there that's it
Writer(s): Tramayne Thompson, Andrea Mercado Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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