You could turn the mic down a lil' bit
    C'mon, with the hands, yeah see
    [both talking]
    
    [Boobonic]
    Excuse me bitch what's your name
    Couple dollars ain't it so what's your game
    Known fact cause I'm gettin' the cash
    Don't dance face to face, bitch gimme the ass
    I'll help you out if you had a long day
    Dick like, good advice, it could go a long way
    Front, cause I knocked cha'll down
    I could remodel homes, I knock walls down
    I'm wit all, that shit y'all
    Talk about, oh what I don't hit raw
    Naw, you could flow like a bank hold up
    Have I ever loved a chick lemme think, hold up
    No, I'm all about the dough
    He shouldn't give a fuck if it's not your hoe
    Oh, that hatin' shit you did, ain't done us
    Playas and we get more head then new hundreds
    
    [Chorus]
    Please don't mind, how I pursue
    Don't take it personal girl it's how thugs do
    Let's get fly, sit for a few
    And after that let's go I'm fucking you
    
    [Mr.]
    Yo, let me tell you how I pursue
    Spit game in they ear, and it's proper too
    Say we stayin' at the Fount with Blue
    I'ma ball every day, spend a grand or two (psyche)
    Hit the beach, forget the sheets
    Get it down right there, chick touch your feet
    Loc roll, that's so much game
    Y'all think y'all know my aim
    That's a joke like Marlon Wayans, lame
    And it ain't got no change
    Chick listen up, want dick or what?
    Take that, that's the only thing I'm givin' up
    Only sent, it's the dream that your 'gone get
    Hit for free, then Boo 'gone hit
    No they not like M-O dot
    I hit, touch base, and ball like White Sox
    
    [Chorus - 2x]
    
    [Boobonic]
    Look around dawg, what you see nigga
    Whole lotta model bitches then me nigga
    Me and Don in a drop and this pearl
    Withchu so sick make niggas wanna hurl
    Do it look like I care that's your girl?
    She diggin' me, and love that I'm all the way ferl
    You talkin' shit, don't concern her
    If I fuckin' go, hit more bitches than Ike Turner
    
    [Mr.]
    I send 'em home in the cab to tell
    I play 'em more high notes than Patti LaBelle (plus)
    You gel, heavywear at (and)
    Got ice and your bezie wear that
    Y'all doozers are strictly losers
    We 'gone blow bright like bulbs and fuses
    Tell your man he better slow his role
    Our guns'll make James Brown lose his soul
    
    [Chorus - 4x]