I'm hard to work with
Fuck it leave all that on there man
Real life situations
You could probabaly take that hour off
But have it on that I ask to take it off
Fuck it leave it
[Verse 1]
Bottles pop, joints rolled
With my folks, in the VIP
Section of the club with my eyes on this model chick
I dont know who she came with
She look like someone famous
She knew every word to my song when the DJ played it
I asked her what her name is
She smiled when she said it
Right now I dont remember but it sounded like somethin spanish
I offered her champagne and she told me she don't drank it
I told her I wanna see her naked
She said lil boy who you playin with
My next thought was ok then
I'm obviously dealin with a lady
I apologized for my statement
And we kept on conversatin
She noticed we was blazin
She took a couple puffs of the haze and
She wrote her number down on a napkin
And after that she vanished
[Chorus]
Now, she on my mind
Can't get this bitch off my mind
She on my mind cant get this bitch off my mind
The shit affectin my rhymes
I'm havin trouble memorizin my lines
Cuz this bitch on my mind
Gotta get this bitch off my mind
[Verse 2]
Now im outside of the club
Me and my homies all fucked up
Tipped valet, hopped back in the truck
Whole ride home I was thinkin bout her
Thought bout callin her but I didnt
I didnt wanna call round all my niggas
Cuz they drunk asses will be laughin an gigglin
And i aint in the mood for all that ribbin
I just waited till i made it to the crib and
Attempted to call while watchin television
Whack ass cellphone trippin
Only get the strong signal when I'm in the kitchen
Walked in and dialed them digits
While the phone ringin
I'm thinkin bout her in different positions
Answer machine, voice sound different
"Thank you for callin popeyes chicken?"
Bitch
Bitch get off my mind
Gotta get that bitch off my mind
Bitch get off my mind
Gotta get this bitch off my mind
This bitch wasn't even that fine
I only seen this bitch one time
Why I got this bitch on my mind
I'mma get this bitch off my mind
I ain't gonna dub her and shit cause
Fuck that bitch
I ain't gonna give her three, you know stacks or something
Cause the shit really did happen
Real life Thursday night
Bitch you could've just said you were straight
Not give me no bogus number
Bitch you must not have known
You were singing the words like you knew me
And then you ain't give me the right number
You could not have known
It's Spitta, they jump at that
Fuck wrong with you
That's why I don't come in LA talking about it
Syke I be in that bitch everytime I'm in the city
See what I forgot though
The bitch had the nerve to hit the weed two times
What was the point of that
You could've just said like
"Let me hit the weed"
I would've let you hit the weed
We wouldnt have needed no conversation or nothing
You could've just hit the weed and keep it moving
Wasting my time and yours thats just not smart
You can't get those minutes back
Spitta
Fly Society
Yeah man, I'm done