Untitled Song

it's four thirty in the morning and i just did another bump

no jumpin' through hoops, i think you know who i wanna fuck

it's you

but hell, what day is it? shit, i must admit

ya scent ain't got me feelin' celibate, it got me feelin' it

 

but it's been a minute since we last spoke and i know

not to drunk dial your cellular phone in case your man's home

watchin' while i'm plottin'

ya say you don't wanna but i think i know you better than that my darlin'

the way i'm feelin's a little rotten

 

and i know that pussy bald and he out to see his parents

let's ball like we did when we would be in back of school playin' tennis

after that, we'd rail a percocet, then two-backed tango step

draggin' cigarettes between seshes of bein' intimate

 

that's loco, in kokomo

sippin' coke some mo'