I studied so many desperate women and how to go by the day
without reminiscing on uterus for exchange.
When a man stays,
he maintains,
and you a sponsorship to both niggas that you would entertain.
It ain't about your emotion and how you be comfortable touching you.
Living fingerprints eat you up and split you
like shreds of a meat between the canines.
The scent of this cologne got you undecisive,
you like a cheese against the mice.
It ain't surprising how you play your dicers.
You get a six when you're rolling the hoe,
that perfect timing.
That nigga that you tryna jack his credit card,
that's lightning.
You don't know you find it hilarious for the girl he wiping.
Ay,
and all the niggas know your value,
they don't feel you.
They notice how you be losing and how you selling your worth.
And you got ego and you're eager like an eagle.
You're poking pockets like needles and then you're finding the worst.
Feel like a preacher,
let me teach you like a beetle.
You're dropping down from the leaf
and you're rolling down in the dirt.
And if they need you,
you appeasing for a reason.
You cheap and you weak,
so technically you came by as a curse.
I see fake men,
pretty women that shake bands,
that make plans and take chances.
We was took for granted by the sex trends.
Pretty women that shake bands and make plans and take chances.
We was took for granted.
I see fake men,
pretty women that shake bands,
that make plans and take chances.
We was took for granted by the sex trends.
Pretty women that shake bands and make plans and take chances.
We was took for granted by the sex trends.
Against the odds,
against the even,
paper chasing,
you're chasing paper.
Found you a demon, swimming deep in the semen.
Digging deep in the garden of Eden,
tree in the middle,
tossing apples to the masculine bees.
You say it ain't about respect and the dignity,
but I see your guilt,
you're conscious for miles away in three-dimensional form.
And how the inner you would never support,
and how your future lays in the casket,
the dream you abort.
You're antisocial,
you're sand-sorted,
you're closing in,
and you're a dying chapter of many stories you're holding in.
You never took the time to fend the sires about the golden rings.
You're old as sin, turn you to a rapture.
Then money over happiness?
You can't keep that permanent.
You made some promises to men who never honored you,
bothers you,
cause you were moving from jerk to a jerk.
All these niggas want to juggle your mind.
Curse!