Woke up from a dream that she cheated on me
She saw my failures but never thought of leaving me be
But I love her to death
It's almost like she choking me
She showed up to my shift at twenty past three
With a red dress on, looking nasty
Come to fashion, she's not drastic
A little hood, a little classy
But she be fancy the way she laughing
And she give me head, without asking
Back last December, I was pushing nights
But she kept me up, like those December lights
Back in Mayfair, we had mad fights
Week in week out, I had to catch a flight
But now we acting right, and she acting nice
And her braids tight, but her mind right
But I'm a lost cause, she said she got faith
Just like I trust God, never put me in harms way
And she's a Christian, only on Sundays
But on the other nights, she's sinning like its cosplay
Angel in disguise, it's a damn shame
That when I make it big, she won't f*ck with the fame
She say my name like it, it mean something
2 degree weather she looking so fine
When I hit it from behind, I know that shit mine
She love diamonds, but f*ck, she hate all the shine
She my favourite, and though heaven sent her to the world
She on the devil's payroll, getting payed by the minute
Don't leave, just whine a minute
I ain't even got a minute
Just wait hold up a minute
You hit me up I'm in it
She in the club at 7 am with her hoe friends
And we ain't broke up no less than bout a minute ago
She still show up to pick me up when times get tough
We in a rough patch but we up again we never end it
And my bitch bad
And she got bad friends
And they all rich
And I could have them
They got Chanel bags bought by they parents
My baby get her own money she don't play dat shit
She so bombastic, body elastic
Titties not plastic call her Mrs. Fantastic
Babyyyyy
She left fabric, with some other motherf*cker
She's in Paris, flying private with her mother
I heard the flight attendant say she was trouble
I heard word from her friends that she's done
But I hit her up, for some love
She said f*ck that, but we should f*ck
She hit the streets type quick like
A fiend found 6 lucky hits
Like shit I ain't think this bitch
Had the itch to split like a gymnasts hips
But I'm home alone thinking of her Christmas gift
Situationships, wishing fake wishes
What you make of it and what you take's different
Babyyyyy