[1st Verse:] Lookin’ too fly walkin’ to the bar Niggas wanna stop, askin’ who I are Hands on my waist tryna find out If I’m gonna flip off of one drink and can he get down I’m a rock hip-hop pop star Can’t check out the door in a fast car Never run from nothin’ when I come thru Roll with the realest that can take out your whole crew
[Hook:] (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! I can make a whole song talk shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! I can make a whole song talk shit!
[2nd Verse:] I don’t like to dance to a slow song You too close and I can’t get my groove on Drop a beat and let a girl feel somethin’ I’m so gutter, watch me two-step to somethin’ Tippy-toes tip and make a mean walk I ain’t tryna listen to your big talk High off my drink for the third time Boy, come and get it Watch me make these niggas fall in line
[Hook:] (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! I can make a whole song talk shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! I can make a whole song talk shit!
[3rd Verse:] ‘Bout to head to the hills ‘fore I pass out Get my coat from the check ‘fore I spaz out Pull my whip to the front and I jump in Catch a look comin’ from the niggas in the black Benz Red light and now they tryna hop in (Remember when I was in school, I was your boyfriend) Got the tint so we never entertain those Hungry-ass groupies on the phone like they got hoes
[Hook:] (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! I can make a whole song talk shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! I can make a whole song talk shit!
[Bridge:] Now I’m feelin’ m’m, m’m good Eyes filled up with the bloodshots Look like a lay-up with the legs out Now he’s tryna get a lick but I’m all gone
[Smoke’s Rap:] Who’s this man who’s not star? Yet you wondering who I are On track with rock hip-hop star, the pop star Who the man behind hot bars? Smoke, I’m soon to be popular Now, where he from? Is it my city, your city? All you need to know, I come from a dope city Never shoot the boys, still keep the dope Bentley Text to the cush with a chase of the Henny And when I’m lookin’ for a freak, really picky-picky And if it smell icky, tell her pull up her Vickie’s But if it smell alright, I might do the licky-licky Let you suck on my neck but, please, no hickie-hickies
[Hook:] (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! I can make a whole song talk shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! (Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit! I can make a whole song talk shit!
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