White lines, pretty baby, tattoos Don't know what they mean They're special, just for you White lines, baking powder on the stove Cooking up a dream, turning diamonds into snow I feel you, pretty baby, feel me Turn it up hot, loving you is free I like it down, like it down way low But you already know that You already know Come on down to Florida I got something for ya We could see the kilos or the Keys, baby, oh, yeah Guns in the summertime Chic-a-Cherry Cola lime Prison isn't nothing to me if you'll be by my side Yayo, yayo, yayo And all the dope fiends Yayo, yayo, yayo Strung in my mouth and gold hoops You like your little baby like you like your drinks cool White lines, pretty daddy, go skiing You snort it like a champ, like the winter we're not in Come on down to Florida I got something for ya We could see the kilos or the Keys, baby, oh, yeah Guns in the summertime Chic-a-Cherry Cola lime Prison isn't nothing to me if you'll be by my side Yayo, yayo, yayo And all the dope fiends Yayo, yayo, yayo We could get high in Miami Ooh, ooh Dance the night away People never die in Miami Ooh, ooh That's what they all say (yay) (You believe me, don't you baby?) Come on down to Florida I got something for ya We could see the kilos or the Keys, baby, oh, yeah Guns in the summertime Chic-a-Cherry Cola lime Prison don't mean nothing to me if you'll be by my side Yayo, yayo, yayo All the Floridians and is like Yayo, yayo, yayo All the Colombians and is like Yayo, yayo, yayo And all my girlfriends Yayo, yayo, yayo That's how we do it, like Mm-mm, pretty baby White lines, pretty baby Gold teeth, pretty baby Yeah-yeah-yeah Dance the night away