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Texty

Uh, she got a cool body, damn she got a cool body What I'm a tell you what to do with your hands for? Much less your dirty ass shoes on the dancefloor? What a poor slob Ain't wash his hands after peein' wound up touched the doorknob What's your job at the pool party? Drunk dude's spittin' up, earlin', droolin', snotty Ooh, she got a cool body, ooh, she got a cool body, yup Bet you wouldn't say that hour ago When she applied the itch cream to her camel toe Shoulda kept her limpin' ass home Santa Marta's dangerous as those who's glass chrome Even worse-- it's the gift that keep givin' Depends on after how many sleeps ya keep livin' Come on G! It's only me Tryna stay from bein' sick. Why I gotta be OCD? Well, wash my balls and detour Or leap from 30, 000 feet on a free fall You so fine sista What I gotta do to get your bovine visna? Niggas draw heat Up in the club a why ya stink of raw meat I'm just sayin', wash ya hands fam Before ya put your nasty thumbs in her underpants, damn You like the way she shake her back area? It's like a sex machine that make bacteria Now that's a real funny business Mad raw filthy fingers stickin' dirty money in it Shit, before I get to stabbin' it At least know her habits and what's in her medicine cabinet Villain brings his own mug to the bar And wore gloves till he go back to the car Hey! Don't get cracked in the jaw We tried to bring an end to the black on black war The real enemy is microscopic There go they trojan horse, you talkin' bout "drop it" All them top models Wanna come over here, chillin', pop bottles Fine-- I take mine to the dome You could get your own and take ya funky ass home
Writer(s): Daniel Thompson, Omar Gilyard Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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