Ghetto Baby

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Lana Del Rey

Elizabeth Woolridge Grant (born June 21, 1985), known professionally as Lana Del Rey, is an American singer, songwriter, and record producer. Her music has been noted by critics for its stylized cinematic quality, its preoccupation with themes of tragic romance, glamour, and melancholia, and its references to pop culture, particularly 1950s and 1960s Americana. more »

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You got a face like the Madonna
Cryin' tears of gold
Been pumping gas at the Texaco, road to road
You're on the run, oh, baby, yeah
You're on the run, oh, baby

I'm not a trick, but I'm a trick for you
You gimme butterflies heart's skipping one
Two
I know you're sick, boy, I wanna get the flu
I'm runnin' temperatures thinkin'
Of your love, boo

Brooklyn, move my soul like this
Kissing my stilettos
Move your mouth up to my lips
Come on over, ghetto baby
(He said, "show me what you got, girl")
Come on over, ghetto baby
("Drop it like it's hot, girl")

I know your lips say that you wanna
But your heart's a no
But boy, your hips say that you're
Gonna when you hold me, hold me
You're so fun, b baby, you are too much fun
B baby

My local rock star, the Willy B crew
I'm feeling you, boy, you likin' me too
I'm clockin' chicks left and right
Just to get to you
You're out there on the grind
Now come home to your queen, boo

Brooklyn, move my soul like this
Kissin' my stilettos
Move your mouth up to my lips
Come on over, ghetto baby
(He said, "show me what you got, girl")
Come on over, ghetto baby
("Drop it like it's hot, girl")

Brooklyn, move my soul like this
Kissin' my stilettos
Move your mouth up to my lips
Come on over, ghetto baby
(He said, "show me what you got, girl")
Come on over, ghetto baby
("Drop it like it's hot, girl")

We're a match made in Heaven
If they're gonna talk, let 'em
If they don't think we're good together
Baby just forget 'em when he's bad, he's bad
But when he's good, no one's better
Cause we're a match made in Heaven
And this kind of love's forever

Brooklyn, move my soul like this
Kissin' my stilettos
Move your mouth up to my lips
Come on over, ghetto baby
(He said, "show me what you got, girl")
Come on over, ghetto baby
("Drop it like it's hot, girl")

Brooklyn, move my soul like this
Kissin' my stilettos
Move your mouth up to my lips
Come on over, ghetto baby
(He said, "show me what you got, girl")
Come on over, ghetto baby
("Drop it like it's hot, girl")

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