Music: Charles Taylor
Lyrics: Charles Taylor
Holiday Season, Holiday Season Babe, babe, babe
Baby, you bad, come to my room
Tell me what time you comin' through
Come to my room, baby, you bad
That nigga crying, nigga you sad
I'm doin' crimes, getting a bag
That nigga not wit'it, that nigga a fag (you ain't know?)
Hey baby girl, won't you come to my room tonight?
I'm fiendin' for you, tryna see what it do
Can l bite on yoΚ»neck and then bust on yo' boobs?
Canl put you in check and get yo' pussy wet tonight?
Your man isn't home and my girl wit' her friends
Lemme come pick you up, I pull up in that Benz
You a slut just for me, keep the world out our biz'
And like that, we just closer than friends'til the end
And you know that I know that you know that you're lying
And I'ma play with that pussy like l play wit' yo'mind
I'm a pimp with this charm bring your b**ch, form a line (ayy, ayy)
Shawty pull up to the club and sip blood 'cause she fine
I'm peeping your b**ch, she fanned out, wit' her tits I'ma sign
I took her out to the car and put d**k in her spine (yeah, yeah, yeah)
These hoes, music, and drugs take up all of my time (yeah)
All of my time, yeah (let's go, let's go)
(Aye, aye)