Lyrics:
to screw with
Gimme huge tit's, talkin' triple D's
Any less than that won't get me in your jeans
I'm off Saints Row, rollin' with steez
And I drive the kinda
the nicest guy I've ever known
I'd introduce him but I don't know
By which name he wants to go
You can laugh
It's fun to me
Can't tell the last time I cried
along to Skynyrd on 11?
Yeah, tell Saint Pete
To save me a seat
On the tailgates of heaven
On the tailgates of heaven
I stopped by old man
In 1671 I joined the Sieur de Saint Lusson
Sault Ste. Marie was where he said we would be going
Sent there under orders by Jean Baptiste Talon
To lay
Watchin', baguettes black hard-bottoms
My ho in some sweats
The wrong way's the long way home
Way tell me 'bout it
We don't do jails, cause if we get rocked
and a back that's strong
You load sixteen tons, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I
Oh yes, I had a dear old mother
And if you should see her before I do
Won't you tell her that you saw me coming
I was struttin' straight on through
minute
That He gave me in this life
So I pray some more
Even if I live poor
You gotta give thanks to God
That's for sure
I thank God for everything that I
He looked me in my face and told me that He never met him (nah, nah)
So boy, I need apologies and then some (right now)
Then add another zero,
a player I'm like Fuck it I'm a console
She saw me on tv now she wanna meet like pronto
She smoking some khalifa Me I (MIA) wanna shoot a
She wanna hang
to kill every nigga
That stand by him or speak for him
Can you stop actin' like you
Doin' me a favor? Do I seem rattled?
This idiot don't even know he tell
my mother cry" (Lord)
"Tell me one reason I shouldn't send you up to Christ"
He said, "Go 'head, take my life, I've seen everything but Christ"
Then
Hate to tell you, baby, hate to tell you ba-a-by
Hate to tell you, baby, that I don't love you
Hate to tell you, babe, I can't put no one else above you
got Münchhausen by proxy
I'm making you sick, don't pretend you can't hear me
You deaf, girl, I said you was foxy
I'll tell a bitch like Bizarre
and a back that's strong
You load sixteen tons and what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I
please
Are you cooking rice and peas
Baby save some for me
Like then paintings on the wall
You baddest of them all
Catalogue them pictures
Automar for
Yea
La mf mettle business
I'm just vibing out
Know what I'm saying
Brought to you by
Saint Label
We bring the vibes out
Mullah
We bring the vibes out
Prada, Yves Saint Laurent
I don't care, my daddy will surely pay it for me
Get some
I am the one, come on and get some
Louboutin, Gucci, Prada,
get high
Why you gotta tell me white lies just to get by
Got so many fucking secrets might as well just be the grapevine
I've been working hard for this
Dominique, nique, nique I will tell of Dominique
His goodness to acclaim
And I pray the song I sing
Will some simple pleasure bring
That
handed me some steaming herbal tea
It's presence caused my memory to jog
I thought of every horror flick I'd seen when I was a kid
And thought, "Man,
ask me, they ask me, they ask me, I tell them
(Here's to Roc-A-Fella)
Raise your glasses, your glasses, your glasses to the sky and
(Here's
Hanes, my T-shirt Saint Laurent
I just made a whole bag from like half of a show
I still got some boys sad, moving bags of the dope
Yeah you know I got
Oh yes, I had a dear old mother
And if you should see her before I do
Won't you tell her that you saw me coming
I was struttin' straight on through
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