Suede - Little Darrell lyrics

[Pimpton] Yo I could get wild like a crocodile She wearin' my name cuz she love my style A hundred white girls in a single file Tryin' ta get touched and they all know how It's about to go down I'm bout to go ham Turn my stereo up cuz my blast on jam Girl, you could get stuck like a suction cup With your bean bag titties and your big ol' bu*t I'm talking bout... [Hook] Let me catch my breath like, (yeah) Let my smoke my best like, (yeah) Now let me count my stack (yeah x2) If I gave you an inch better bring that sh** back, like (Shorty work her back like a bull in a China shop) Pullin' on rags (Shorty work her back like a bull in a China shop) I do it so good had to put it on wax (Shorty work her back like a bull in a China shop) She a movie star and I like it like that (Shorty work her back like a bull in a China shop) When the jakes come around, boy you know where it's at... [Pimpton] I come through like a UFO when it hovers And bang Wu Tang in the shudders Put down the nine just to hit him with the putter The s**a never even told his mother that he loved her Bread for the bu*ter and pity for the fool He should have known better than to f** with Crown Jewels I'm chillin' with the k**a Whale, look like Shamu Ya head get wet and we ain't talkin' shampoo We do like Van Doos My favorite dance move Is when MJ freeze tip toe down his shoes But I ain't come to dance I'm collectin' my scrill That's why I f**s with Nicky, trill recognize trill Shoot for the k** Ride round hot box, tint, Coupe de Ville I boot with the heel So go on catch a foot up your a** Have your sh** lookin' like "damn I walked in got had 'fore I sat down." Hook [Andre Nickatina] Cuz it's a bolo mission And I'm somthin' like a chef in a crack kitchen You keep frontin' might find your whole back missin' I'm Vida Blue when I do my all-star pitching You could scream in my ear and I won't listen I don't like you b**h, you need ta quit trippin' Do ya time playboy n***a, stop snitchin' Man it's a sugar man, someone might say ta god It's like Chris Paul throwin' Blake Griff a lob Or Mac Dre tellin' hoes that it ain't his job I let the Benz bust a b**h and I straight mob The homie said his new gun had a rubber handle And he'll love to blow you out like a roman candle I stand alone in the rain like a lost lover To reconnect with the homies like the Ward brothers Man, it's a gold thang And I like to pick up a little ho change And my style stand out like a gold chain Fillmoe in the buildin', and it's a go mayne Khan Mecca and it really ain't no thang Hook