Texty

He's got a thing for fitness, seven days a week But I don't really care unless he's working out with me He's got a thing for flowers, but only certain kinds And by certain kinds I mean, only if it's mine Don't get enough, he don't get enough I don't get enough, he don't get enough of me Don't get enough, I don't get enough He don't get enough, I don't get enough There's no innuendos, it's exactly what you think Believe me when I tell you that he loves the color pink, oh Pink, oh We get palpitations when the week is slow Yeah baby, we get anxious mostly on the days we don't Use physics to fit in our love Use physics to fit in our love, uah ah Don't get enough, he don't get enough I don't get enough, he don't get enough of me Don't get enough, I don't get enough He don't get enough, I don't get enough There's no innuendos, it's exactly what you think Believe me when I tell you that he loves the color pink, oh Pink, oh That he loves the color pink Open up your mind Wanna walk through the corridors and open doors I wonder if they're pink Open up your mind Wanna walk through the corridors and open doors I wonder if they're pink Don't get enough, he don't get enough I don't get enough, he don't get enough of me Don't get enough, I don't get enough He don't get enough, I don't get enough There's no innuendos, it's exactly what you think Believe me when I tell you that he loves the color pink, oh Pink, oh Believe me when I tell you that he loves the color pink, oh
Writer(s): Robin Lennart Fredriksson, Mattias Per Larsson, Julia Michaels, Justin Drew Tranter Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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