[Intro]
Look at shorty, son (Word)

[Verse 1]
Uh, shorty is hot as it get
She ill, ain't a lot of chicks exotic as this
A perfect specimen, mommy is it, and you ain't gotta be
A doc to see her body is sick, and when she move
To the music, I lose it, she too thick
And always wear exclusive, new shit
Designer shirts and jeans, hair stay done up
Tie up shirts with the strings halfway strung-up
Uh, showin' her cleavage off
With a strut in her walk like a diva floss
Every squeeze is soft, her skin is that smooth
A lot of sensitive spots and hidden tattoos
From coast to coast, she like to pose in clothes
Shoes with open toes? You look dope in those
I got no composure and no control when you
Expose a little more than you’re supposed to show

[Chorus]
Ladies from New York, California, Chicago
The Midwest to South to Ciaro
We're off to Japan, to Morocco
It feel good in your hands like silk and money
Dress ghetto with dress like a model
Sweet as sugar but act like she hard though
On the block or the front row at Ra's show
They turn and halt to the land of milk and honey
[Verse 2]
Look, every stitch of her clothes fit her
J. Lo figure, wanna lay low with her
She don't get with no n***a for chips and no glitter
Ballers try to stick her, she pitched a no-hitter
I'm quick to go get her, fuck blowin' a horn
Knock on the door while she's throwin' it on
She pin it up or wear it out, mommy's ready
Look good with any hairstyle like Halle Berry
Dress like a debutante wherever you get to flaunt
Club, concert or restaurant
Whatever you want, ain't nothin' you ain't already got
N***as can't warm you up, you already hot
You go to college, a job, your own dollars, and wheels
Nail polish, beauty parlor, get a massage and chill for real
How does it feel to know you got the goddess appeal?
Damn, you make a n***a wanna holler for real

[Chorus]
Ladies from New York, California, Chicago
The Midwest to South to Ciaro
We're off to Japan, to Morocco
It feel good in your hands like silk and money
Dress ghetto with dress like a model
Sweet as sugar but act like she hard though
On the block or the front row at Ra's show
They turn and halt to the land of milk and honey
[Verse 3]
They can't understand you 'cause you over the top
They watch you go up the block, you know that you hot
The type of chick that like to save her dough up and shop
And put that bomb shit on and blow up the spot
I could see you at the beach, martini cup
Wet body, Brazilian bikini cut
In a Tahiti hut, we chillin' with glow
So appealin', plus you got the genie touch
You don't play when you got that NBA short dress on
Make it bounce even with a full-court press on
Lady in her bell jers', back and stomach out
We can get it poppin' like that gum in your mouth
And I love the thing you do when you play with your hair
I take you to affairs with your tasteful wear
Them other lady players? They hate what you wear
'Cause you look like a player's playmate of the year

[Chorus]
Ladies from New York, California, Chicago
The Midwest to South to Ciaro
We're off to Japan, to Morocco
It feel good in your hands like silk and money
Dress ghetto with dress like a model
Sweet as sugar but act like she hard though
On the block or the front row at Ra's show
They turn and halt to the land of milk and honey