[Intro]
She was coming on to me, I was coming on to her
Hit the town and shoot the breeze, baby don't you fight the curse
She was making love to me, I was holding on to her
Hit the town and shoot the breeze, baby don't you fight the curse

[Verse 1]
Ah, just give me that bass
She listening to Ross now, give me that face
I ain’t tryna chase, tryna get to third base
'til I hit a home run, 321, we safe
Damn she a looka, ran outta liquor
Sweet-sweet pusha, give me that gusha
I ain't tryna spit game, maybe we could hook up
The Aston out front, so my nickname Kutcher
Dinner date time, down Interstate 9
I’m in a state of mind like "a dinner date's fine"
We could go to the condo and drink wine
She want to be my girl but it'll take time
She like "Where the cognac? Why we drink wine?"
Cause the wine get you open, heard it through the grape vines
First dim the lights, close the drape blinds
Then I scratch that kitty, word to my K-9's
Gold Spur, chauffeur, big grill gleaming
Cold flurr', snow fur when it's chill season
Got on red bottoms, look like your heels bleeding
I fucked a hundred bitches, to this day we still speaking
And they still creeping, got 'em still cheating
(You sound like me in my heyday)
[Verse 2: Jim Jones]
Got 'em still cheating, got 'em still creeping
Text me on the phone said the panties still leaking (Nasty)
She came four times, had the bitch tweaking (Tripping)
Jump up in the ride, loud how you reaking (Turn that down)
Then she went down, on lookers peeking (Somebody's looking)
I had them dark tints it’s hard for them to see in
She bust em all loss em rollin we was leaving
That's another reason, to only let the freak in (Where you at?)
That type of action, happen every third weekend (Where you at?)
Took all type of trips, til my mileage got frequent (I got free flights this year)
Shit, and my proposals came indecent
She musta told her friends cause I here 'em ki-ki'ing
(I saw your girlfriend last night) About this money and V's that we be in
We getting money new V's each season (What's this fall?)
The champagne caught me, vision kind of sloppy (Who that?)
Kickin' it to this broad but my speech is kind of choppy
I told her let's split, her reply was copied
So when a n***a split, you know we jump up in the high V
Damn, I think she caught an orgasm
This gold diggin bitch caught a whore spasm (Nasty)
I’m a cold n***a bitch and I the Porsche spazzing
You know the Porsche waggon, four door cabin (I'm on him)
I’m getting money so of course I’m braggin (Count that)
I had the bitch high like she was on saturn (Nah, you aight, baby)
But they get confused with my thought patterns
While we smoking blunts by the port landing