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Rated 168 times: 82%
Lyrics submited by: ras188
Last corrected by: livee




I can work wit that
Can you work wit that
Can you work wit that
Can you work wit that
In the stretch LS, baby we hood fellas
We speeding on the freeway
Cali to the A
I can work wit that
Can you work wit that
Can you work wit that
Can you work wit that
Walk in to the party and seen so many hoes
Diamonds on my fingers, a couple on my toes
Chorus


We hit the waffle house and finish with some aleezay
That's my reality
It's that southern hospitality
A look in her eye and smile on her lips
With her hands on her hips
She in the DoubleTree suites
i might give 'em my celle
And take it to the telle
Some many apple bottom freaks showin' belly
Just showin' off my LA
You might see me in GA
I don drop the DJ
It's Quik baby
I'm late but can't go to sleep because your pussy gorgeous
Stand you up and makes you nauseous
You hate for me
Don't think that I'm afraid to toss it
Get the robe out the closet and wait for me
Take a bubble bath
True kid 24 and I'm goin' meet you there
Come get the keys to the suite up at the soapy tail
Tomorrow morning make my eggs with onions cheesy for me
Lemme do my job girl don't make it easy for me
[Verse 2 DJ Quik]

I can work wit that
Can you work wit that
Can you work wit that
Can you work wit that
In the stretch LS, baby we hood fellas
We speeding on the freeway
Cali to the A
I can work wit that
Can you work wit that
Can you work wit that
Can you work wit that
Walk in to the party and seen so many hoes
Diamonds on my fingers, a couple on my toes
[Chorus]

I brought my boy wit me so bring another female
Hit me on the G-Mail
Worldwide aim
Sand between your toes, umbrellas in your drinks
O.T resorts by the sea
You want a nigga that might grow up and be somebody
You used to sushi then you know want some calamari
I'm hot middle of winter coupe no roof
I got some grown man game for your Bluetooth
Talking bout their rims and all they damn tennis shoes
You sick of lame dudes frontin' wit attitude
It's Saturday night, should probably wear that shit to church
Cold piece of work fillin' out your mini skirt
When the beat drop dip and make the booty roll
I see you baby keep bouncin' on your tippy toes
Down the sippy sippy
Pick a bottle, get a glass
Blame the sticky-icky
[Verse 1]
I can be a little picky


80 lines, overall lyrics popularity 14.02%
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