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Hook
How did you know? I love this song. Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass and I'm homebound. I got you on a talk about mothers. I got you on a talk about mothers. And put a lady, perhaps a salad? Perhaps not. I'll have the steak smothered in onions, a rack of ribs, pasta with. Move, bitch. Whistle trail. On the dance floor. What's up, money? You got a problem? What you looking at my ass for? Nah, yo, hold my poodle. Hold my poodle. Are you telling me that you are not? Yeah, I'm not a woman. White? Oh, cotton tail. I'm coming, nigga. Hey, dude. I ain't what you think I am. And I need you. And I miss you. Calm down. I'm an FBI agent. I was uncovering a Negro, please.
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