Chick Like Me

Cherish

    Continúa después del anuncio

    [Rasheeda]
    Yeah, D-lo, okay, Sho'Nuff, so what we got here y'all?
    This right here is what we call female pimpin'
    Understand that Rasheeda, okay, Cherish baby, okay
    Don Vito you a little foolish, ha, ha, I like this ATL

    Straight up A-Town that's my type
    Thugged out, from the hood that's what I like
    Neck, ears, wrist shinning so bright
    Give me paper or plastic anything I like
    You see I like 'em kind of cool
    Black shades, black tee and black shoes
    Candy painted Impala on 22s
    Straight up gutta
    Is just my kind of dude

    Where my Chi Town gangsters
    (Who're down for whatever)
    And all my Midwest riders
    (My St. Louis players)
    Where my East Coast hustlers
    (My New Yorkers, holler)
    Cause we don't need no bustas
    (We don't need no haters)

    I need a down south G
    (The ones that ride so good)
    That can give me what I need
    (The ones that talk so hood)
    The boys from the West Coast scene
    (My crip walkin soldiers)
    That can handle a chick like me
    A chick like me

    All my fellas need to hear me, I want y'all to hear me clearly
    I'm not the picky type, I like my thugs from every city
    GA, L. A., on back to Philly but them dirty boys
    Oh, they do something to me

    Continúa después del anuncio

    See I have to disagree
    I like my thugs from the NYC
    Steady trappin' on the gangsta scene
    Ridin' in cars up on that gangsta lean

    Where my Chi Town gangstas? Down for whatever
    And all my Midwest riders, my Saint Loui players
    Where my East Coast hustlers? My New Yorkers holla
    Cause we don't need no bustas, we don't need no haters

    I need a down south G, the ones that ride so good
    That can give me what I need, the ones that talk so hood
    The boys from the West Coast scene, my crip walkin' soldiers
    That can handle a chick like me, a chick like me

    [Rasheeda]
    Red monkey jeans hanging low with a black-T
    Gotta mean swag and he trappin' on the back street
    Now man it's something 'bout them G's
    Make Rasheeda temperature jump 100 degrees
    Is it the money or the candy paint drippin'
    Or the way he hold me down and keep it pimpin'?
    Plus he know just how to, how to b*** i* u*
    Can't get enough so he always wanna eat it up

    Where my Chi Town gangstas? Down for whatever
    And all my Midwest riders, my Saint Loui players
    Where my East Coast hustlers? My New Yorkers holla
    Cause we don't need no bustas, we don't need no haters

    I need a down south G, the ones that ride so good
    That can give me what I need, the ones that talk so hood
    The boys from the West Coast scene, my crip walkin' soldiers
    That can handle a chick like me, a chick like me

    Where my Chi Town gangstas? Down for whatever
    And all my Midwest riders, my Saint Loui players
    Where my East Coast hustlers? My New Yorkers holla
    Cause we don't need no bustas, we don't need no haters

    I need a down south G, the ones that ride so good
    That can give me what I need, the ones that talk so hood
    The boys from the West Coast scene, my crip walkin' soldiers
    That can handle a chick like me, a chick like me
    That's how it's going down right here, baby

    Yeah
    We calling out all the G's all around the world
    Please believe it, y'all need to keep it pimpin'
    Keep ya A game, keep it tight baby
    This Cherish right here
    This Rasheeda right here, the Georgia peach
    The Urban Legend
    It don't get no better than this

    Información de la canción

    Composición: R. Kyle Frost

    ¿Los datos están equivocados?

    Enviar revisión