I must've read you wrong. Now all I really have is this song
It's like I'm dead, and NOW I fucking turn you on

"I go on and on and on and. Don't take 'em to the crib unless we boning." Phone sex, wake up in the morning. I want to see you moaning. If you a chick like Simone and Sasheer I'll keep on boning. Hear a beat and I keep on zoning. So keep on throne-ing. Stay on the phone with me. Lonely as I can be is how I describe me. Until I find me by the side of these grimy P-E-O- (pardon me) A-L-I-E-N-S. We the best. Please contest. Please confess. I don't need no rest

I must've read you wrong. Now all I really have is this song
It's like I'm dead, and NOW I fucking turn you on

Sober blacking. You know what happens when I roll up a blunt. That could be a month and a half (just thinking about the high). Reason why I blink from my eyes and the third one. Damn, a virgin had to be the reason why I pop when I see a guy trying to say my style is not iHop. Dead in the hood, ten blocks away from where I would stay. The Harlem Dr. Dre. Can't stop today I got a lot to rock, I've got to say. I am amazing. No 'Ye/yay, though. Unless it's in my nostrils. Off the top rope. I don't play, though. I am the creator, like Plato

I must've read you wrong. Now all I really have is this song
It's like I'm dead, and NOW I fucking turn you on

I go psycho, pyrotechnic. I respect it. I ain't that damn violent. Why does this chick get so wet when I think about me dying? She need to be replying. I'm not trying anymore, I'm simply venting. Gotta to get with me, Fenty. I breathe a fire inside (i.e., desire when crying). No need for crying when I am in the booth. I end the booth. N***as try and get in the booth after I spit from my tooth. And my teeth are loose. Tooth Fairy, bring the salute

I must've read you wrong. Now all I really have is this song
It's like I'm dead, and NOW I fucking turn you on