I met him up at LAX he said, damn, what's your number
Let me shoot you a text
What you think happened next
Shit of course I said yes
He was dripped out in gallery and smelled like
Zaza and Baccarat
In my mind I'm like, damn, this nigga fine
If he keep staring at my lips like this we
Might just end up intertwined
Twisting my hips as I dip know he watching
From behind turn around and blow a kiss at him, hop in my
Whip and slide
Anyway, he took me out later that day

Said he from the Bay but he in LA just to make a play
Oh okay, I can relate I beez in the trap like Nicki, rich off
Bags and plates
And by the that he look, know he wanna taste
He said, fuck the small talk, come and put that pussy on my face