[Intro: Joey BADA$$] Yeah, run up on ya bitch like Probably run up on ya bitch like
[Verse 1: Joey BADA$$] Lord, can I get a bad bitch? High class whip, be above the average Headed north west, that two seater Kardashian Type to give me brain up in the red light traffic And keep ya head up, that 2Pac blasting Face two stacks and then be back into this action No time to relax, I need someone to count this cash with That match with, give me what I'm maxin' The lady in the streets appear beast on that mattress That's it, you're the only one I'm trying to mack with But you could be a liability of fat acid How real is that ass miss? Bend that shit backwards Hit one back, crack the pussy like a password Bet that pussy's last word is master Ask her, roll my rocker til I made that astronaut That's NASA[?], be that young fly, nasty one Swallow the seeds, please, but you can't catch me slipping, hon
[Hook: Elle Varner] So let's just ride away We could die today Got no time to waste So just roll with me, baby Ride or die Always by your side Until the end of time Driving me crazy
[Verse 2: Joey BADA$$] First thing's first, I, Joey Freaks all the honeys, mommies, the playboy bunnies The hoes love me, get down before the money Just know shit could get ugly, but whether it rain or sunny Just never worry, chinchillas in February Vanilla, that's when you ready Check the itinerary whenever it's necessary Keep my baby straight, peep my lady lace The Margiela to [?] Fool less it's planned and everything is in control So hit the gas and let's go It's no sleep til Brooklyn, another beastie boy And she just can't stop looking, she like it raw Real spitter and all and that's the word of mouth And let her sit in the jaw I'm so nasty, please just walk past me So tempted to grab it, I gotta have it We could be living lavish so tell me, girl, right away We could hit the bank then escape to the hideaway Is you riding, riding with me? Is you riding? Is you riding, riding with me? Is you riding?
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Action Bronson] Getting head in the whip, not crashing it Feel of a [?] short set, half Arabic I sit in dove room with candle lit Tell little mama handle it Or you could leave the sandals on and pull your skirt up I really remember reading Word Up Tiger beast, see me on the cover soon, fold out posters Hanging on your shorties wall I still be fucking women half my age when I'm 44 Young skin, a winning personality Hard dick, million dollar salary These cheating refs calling fouls on me Break the fucking whistle off in his ass, now hit the road, Jack Hop off the bozack, the .44 clap You'll need low jack to define your whole back Euros'll get down, you know that Swimming trunks and throwback Yeah, you know that