Fresh Songtext

von Sts

Patten leather Pradas, in my b-boy stance
Armani black tee, with my dick in my hands
All the ladies jockin', looking for romance
But I just wanna do it like the Nike brand
Girlys' say I'm fly, say she like my style
Plus I got the best dressed MySpace profile
I ask her her name, she said Shante
Like the real Roxanne but it's spelled a different way
So we dilly-dally, drank a shot of [alley?]
She took me to the car to smoke Cali
She had a white Jetta Rabbit that was so impressive
It had gold trim, and gold [BBS's?]
Baby she was bad in a major way
But I just needed love like LL Cool J
And I was on my game so I could not miss
She had on fifty-four eleven's, and it went like this
I was funky fresh, she was ice-cold
We was at the club so you know how it goes
The DJ, he was cuttin', mixin' up jam
So I had to grab the mic so she would know who I am
"Coming to the mic, we got your boy
STS, Sugar Tongue Slim, all the way from Atlanta, Georgia
Ya'll give it up, let's go"
Hell naw, dog, they don't know me
It's all broads in the Cadillac, say O.G.
The whole squad got battle raps, plus high heat
Now we can spit it at you, or just ride to the beat, it's that deep
Concrete like the definition of what's street
You in the wrong lane, thinkin' you cuttin' off me, me
Four-wheelin' and concealing something that will get you crumpin'
Got your wires criss crossed, what I toss will get you jumpin'
Slumpin' in your big toys, thought ya'll was Big Boi
What happened with the beef, huh, did the shit spoil?
[Now niggas bowl?] but don't strike, gotta' lot of life in ya'
Don't fight, your best bet is to go right, aiight
STS flow better than I dress, blow cess when I'm stressed
If I did it, won't confess to the bullshit the rest
To get the cops off the block
We post bail, roll a 'L', and get back to hip-hop
So I took her to the bar, and started blowing my snaps
Henny got her loose, and now she running the trap
Baby she was with it, I was down to kick it
Wrote me down the address, followed by the digits
Grabbed my Starter jacket from the check coat girl
Hopped up in the Caddy, bumping Ready for the World
Cruising down the avenue, puffing my jane
One fly nigga driving hoes insane
Pulled up to the house about a quarter 'til two
She was looking fresh, and I was feeling brand new
Sat me on the bed, started rubbing my back
Lit me up an 'L', told me try to relax
You dealing with a mack, girl, I'm cool as a fan
And that's when she went and put my mic in her hand
We did it like this, we did it like that
I beat it up so bad, she thought I had a Wiffle bat