The fact of the matter is, she aint gotta be the baddest bitch, or live the glamorest life
She just gotta be the type I'd be ready to wife
Who can deal with the fact that I carry the mic
And I carry it like, my life depended on it
It keep me fresh and keep me gettin blunted
Food on the plate and within the stomach
And if she want it I can get it for her,
As the bottle pop and henny pours,
Me engrained up in her memory core,
She send forget me not texts,
I'm cool with hanging if it's not sex
Now tell me what's next...
I seldom get vexed when she come out,
If I'm clownin round she stick her tongue out
Most of our communication's non-verbal,
We keep a tight circle,
It be them rumours comin round to hurt you,
I work hard I know I deserve you, but never take for granted
What we have is god ordained and reprimanded...
D'ecent...
credits
from D'ecent,
track released February 22, 2010
Produced by Chris P / Samples by D'Angelo / Lyrics by Sulaiman