Dip-n-Sauce

Shawty see the sauce, I guess that's why she wanna dip, though

I'm who these bitches feel, they know the deal, they on my pickle

Hope the way I drip, these haters don't think I'm a lick, though

I can't afford to slip, that's why I'm grippin' on my pistol

I'm riding with that four, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

I might take your hoe, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

Pedal to the floor, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

Racin' to that dough, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

Headed to them dollar signs

Big old forty on my side

Whippin', grippin' on her thighs

Shorty blow me while I drive

I'm connected, that's my word, like written in cursive

Gucci shades, lookin' clean up in them glasses, dish detergent

I'm Scott Hall and I'm Curt Hennig

Clothes is drippin', Mister Perfect, bitch, I'm splurgin'

Bad bitch slurpin', I hope I don't get to swervin' (Woo)

I be gettin' brain while I'm switchin' lanes

Feelin' like the rain, drip on everything

I'm flyer than a plane, he think shit a game

He must wanna feel the rain like he Eddie Cane

You could get it, pistol grippin', I ain't slippin'

Ghostbusters, I was trappin' on them ****, call me Winston

Bitch, I am of no religion, but my Louboutins are Christian

Got that bag, you know I'm drippin'

When I tee up, it ain't Lipton (Oh)

Shawty see the sauce, I guess that's why she wanna dip, though

I'm who these bitches feel, they know the deal, they on my pickle

Hope the way I drip, these haters don't think I'm a lick, though

I can't afford to slip, that's why I'm grippin' on my pistol

I'm ridin' with that four, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

I might take your hoe, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

Pedal to the floor, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

I'm racin' to the dough, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

Girl, put your two feet up

Slide up in that pussy with like two fingers and make it juicier

She's throwin' deuces up

She left her ex and met the executioner

I got them other **** faded like a Boosie cut

Girl, we gon' give 'em hell like they was Lucifer

Now cut the música

It's just the two of us

And my forty cal', you know it move with us

Don't want my money, all she wanna do is fuck

Just tell your ex he better keep it cool, because I will shoot shit up

She say God sent the male of her dreams

But I'm just racin' to that door like the bell from the ring

She say she can't wait till we get home to get this dick, though

Chokeslam a bitch up on a bed, I think I'm Big Show

Pull her back and cock it, now she bustin' like my pistol

Right after that, we get dough, you know how this shit go

Shawty see the sauce, I guess that's why she wanna dip, though

I'm who these bitches feel, they know the deal, they on my pickle

Hope the way I drip, these haters don't think I'm a lick, though

I can't afford to slip, that's why I'm grippin' on my pistol

I'm ridin' with that four, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

I might take your hoe, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

Pedal to the floor, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

Racin' to that dough, oh, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah