Crocodile on my feet Fox fur on my back Bowtie `round my neck That's why they call me the gangsta mack In the Cadillac!! Yeah!!
Nasty Noompsy Knightingale Fresh in that tuxedo Cumberbun with no suspenders My torpedo, you libido Need to chat (Chip, chop it up, shoot the breeze!) I'm your r-o-l-a-i-d-s, release the squeeze or release the keys To the shackles on her wrist, she can tackle some of this Smack on smack on some of this dick tracy Arrest her, book her, fingerprint your hooker You took her to the club and now her body is full of liquor Off that Butterscotch Schnapps and Bailey's Irish Cream She's a damsel in distress impressed with stylish things Whatcha mean? (Chip, chop it up, shoot the breeze!) In the parking lot we primp, crooked booty to the scene where i's...
Oh, lord! How can it be so hard?? To put on a pair of panties much less a pair of jeans or the leotard But I got to start by complimenting you on your physique You unique, you best believe I'm gon' skeet once I speak Spoke, spit, spatter, spat and I macked her just like that But it takes years of perserverance and experience to get that cat! So why don't I chase this Hennessy down with some of that On your back, like a cheerleader missing the final stack! As we strut skip the line through the glass window glance We look fine, right on time As we step in the place the nursery's crunk we've come to play
Everybody's watching `cause them furs just hit the door While the gator's creeping, crawling oh so wicked across that floor To the V.I.P. where we proceed to give you what you need Throw your hands up if you feel me!! Throw your hands up if you feel me!! `Cause we well designed like the finest wine Feel good to be fly, so don't you ask me why I got the ladies in line, because they can't deny So raise your hands to the sky `cause we super fly