[Verse 1: Choosey]
Look, yeah, it go
Quarter to eleven shawty telling me she ready to go
Ready set that needle on the record just to set the tone
Pour the sangria over apples and the cantaloupe
Diced pineapples had to open up a can of those
Pull up in them leggings cus she know I’m ‘bout to handle those
She covered by a jacket tryna camouflage the cameltoe
Counted down the seconds ‘til that landed on my mattress
Sat her ass up on it and asked me for another glass of antidote
Loving you back and the middle and front
Throwing it back and you looking back at it like oh you can’t handle it you had enough?
Then I say damn it she know what it does
I put it down and now you can’t get up
All I’ve been wanting is all the above
Under the covers and up in the cuffs
Whatever I’m doing got you on the cusp
And you ‘bout to cum
Put you to sleep, wake and repeat
Then we cuddle up
Ain't it a shame, we ain't even seen
A single scene on this DVD playing that’s there on the screen
Maybe the neighbors can’t make out the screams
I think

[Verse 2: The Last Artful Dodgr]
When I’m done
Quarter to eleven half a quarter to my moniker
Quarterly I caught this thing in harmony with Monica
A figure of infatuation filthy for personifi-
-cation [?]
Way before this song is up for now
Sip on this sangria
Sorry for the smell
I mean it wasn't me
Been here for a while
You should kick your feet up
I’ll throw in the towel
[?]
Have a go ahead, recite a prayer for every cat I lick
Plenty room up on my stair face welcome home just have a seat
There's an open invitation just for you the baddest -itch
Scratch it raw, it’s hard as hell, we rock the boat
It’s hard to tell when I’ma dock yourself
Then got no more reason to stop yourself
We’re ready to be on the land I ain’t throwing no shade keep your feet in the sand and my face in the wave