New Year's 3 and you wanna tell me after talkin all baller
that we can't be cause that thing you call a ring but I call a collar.
How you told me it was he on the leash But now I see from the gleam of sparkled marquis
that you're on the tether. Cold weather.
Cause these hands, you see
fulfill that need
And not by degrees not by decree not by the likes of your facebook friendlies.
They only touch your face and wrap your waist
and fill every space and touch every place that he
These hands could be just where you need
And your body for me is A-B-C. It's 1-2-3, then Go, make you moan and bring the oh and pull your thighs to frame my cheeks
and make you scream through my walls.
Few more squares and I'll be there on the far side
while you decide if suicide of the life you hide behind the Good Girl eyes might be
a bad fucking idea.
As the sacrifice you provide when you concede the needs for Girl
is a price too high to survive, set aside that you more than imply
more than a winking sigh
more than a line you'll be my third try at a wife
more than roll those eyes that get me high when they hold on mine.
But you say it straight. Happiness ain't on y'alls plate
ain't your fate and you ain't no saint but can't see
how you can be with the PPP and ass-tight jeans on the pillow queen that turns so mean when I make a scene cause you ain't seen what I been seein' so in the end it means by any means and by all means
that how you be is all I need
and all you will be is all I would need
and you and me could be We and we would see how you could be.
Or not. But your happiness is somewhere that ain't M.S.B.