Get down and dirty I know you heard me (Everybody get down) Yeah, if we only got one night Forget about the world outside Put your hands up real high I'm tasty, delicious, I'm rough around the edges My mind is obsessive, my flex is aggressive Glad I

I'm just like you You don't need to hide For I am just like you Yes, oh my God! Poltergeist On the count of two, You don't need to hide, my friend For I'm just like you

Shall I write or phone from Paris or Rome Even though you're tryin' to hold me back You don't get no mail you know I'm in jail Fare thee well, my brother, please don't stand in my way I'm goin' down to that dirty town no matter what you say You fooled me

Talk dirty to me Been around the world, don't speak the language But your booty don't need explaining All I really need to understand is Will you talk dirty to me? Anyway, every day I'm trying to get to it Got her saved in my phone under "Big Booty"

Can you save my heavy dirty soul? Can you save Can you save my For me, for me, oh Gangsters don't cry Therefore, therefore I'm Mr. Misty-eye, therefore I'm Death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit Can you save my, save my

I'm not okay You wear me out Well if you wanted honesty, that's all you had to say I never want to let you down or have you go, it's better off this way For all the dirty looks For photographs your boyfriend took Remember when you broke your foot from

Like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry No, no chance That I'm leaving here without you on me Yeah, I already know that there ain't no stoppin' 'Cause I want you bad Yeah, I want you, baby Slow, slow hands

Do you wanna be a friend of mine? Amy don't you go I want you around Singin' woah, please don't go Is your heart singing out of tune Dirty records from another time Some blood stains on your shoes Amy please don't go Are your eyes just singing the blues

There were times we had it all I can't explain it away, it doesn't make any sense To know what it's like, I guess you gotta go through it I guess you gotta go through it, I guess you gotta go through it It doesn't matter, baby Loving you's a dirty job

Money in your palm don't make you real Pistol in your hand don't make you real Niggas been countin' me out I'm writin' down names, I'm makin' a list The real ones been dyin', the fake ones is lit The Bentley is dirty, my sneakers is dirty But that's how