Ms. Johnson

Baby doll, I had to block you on Instagram, you kept postin' pictures of your new man and man I ain't tryna rekindle our love affair once again, but help me understand You got with this nigga two weeks after me, you could at least act like you give a damn, I mean damn I would've protected your pretty brown skin from anything, even the Ku Klux Klan I know you watchin' your figure if you wanted a cheat day I would've took you to Aunt Anne's What the hell could've changed so drastically for you and me in a two month span? You like my baby, my Mercedes, my lady, most important you my friend Most things come to an end, but we could've came to a comma Matter of fact, where's your mama? You know your momma love me, what's your mama sayin'? You know your poppa trust me, what's your poppa sayin'? You know- Ms. Johnson, did you know your daughter was runnin' around datin' a short nigga from Wisconsin? Now I don't got nothin' against short niggas, but hmm Ms. Johnson, at least I'm tall At least I can teach our kids how to ball like Tristan Thompson And I'll teach 'em all of my player ways, you know my good ones not my bad ones I gotta step up and be a father 'cause it get wicked when you don't have one Wonder what type of dad I'd be, would I be this one? Would I be that one? I'd be like LeBron James jumpin', screamin' at all the games, yeah, I'd be that one Yeah, I'd be that one Sorry, I gotta go Sorry, Ms. Johnson