My boy, my boy, my boy Don't love me like he promised He ain't a man and sure as hell ain't honest (Alright dude, go trip over a knife) And if you want a good girl, then goodbye My boy's being sus and he don't know how to cuss

No one will ever love you No one will ever love you like I do I know why you’re lonely It’s time you knew it too Don’t you try to tell me someone’s waiting They’re not waiting for you Oh and don’t you try to tell me that you’re wanted That you’re needed

I feel it in my bones I can't do it alone The gloves are off The wisdom teeth are out What you on about? I'm stronger now I'm ready for the house Such a modest mouse Every time I see you in the world

Why I got you on my mind Why I got you on my mind (you think you know somebody) Why I got you on my mind (but my heart don't understand) You don't mess with love, you mess with the truth Poured it down, so I poured it down And now I don't understand it

It's hard to learn How tears can burn one's heart But that's a thing that I found out Too late I guess, Cause I'm in a mess My faith has gone Why lead me on this way? I thought there'd be no price on love But I had to pay. If I could perform one miracle

And it won't say a lonesome word What evil have I done? Beatrice, I love my phonograph She got a phonograph Beatrice, she got a phonograph Beatrice got a phonograph But it won't say a lonesome word What evil has the poor girl heard? But you broke my

There's levels to your love And I know, we can get higher Levels, levels, levels, levels Yeah, there's levels to your love And I keep on climbing up Let them go, all the one's tryna get in the door I'ma go where they all couldn't go Up a floor, up a

I like it, like it Come on, come on, come on 'Cause I may be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it Sex in the air, I don’t care, I love the smell of it Sticks and stones may break my bones But chains and whips excite me S, S, S and Na na na, come on, come

Rich young nigga, put a bitch in her place (Well, alright) Make a hundred bands, I throw a fifty in the safe, ayy (Yeah) If you're talkin' money, gotta show it to my face (Got to) Well we the ones they love to hate, ayy, shouts out to the gang (Shout)

You make it easy to see High ball shooter You sure ripped the low ones off me You´re a high ball shooter Well I´m a rock and roll preacher Not a Sunday school teacher You ain´t no shady lady But I love the way you strut your stuff You´re a snow queen