Going Home with Me

Im feelin that 2x, is you wit me?
Im the type you see at the bar, fresh, buyin it up And every girl I talk to, yeah Im tryin to cut
I tellem all Im chi chi and its nice to meet ya Real quick, I tell how she got all the right features
The jams come on and the glasses get refilled
We dance and watch the relations build
Now Im all up in her ear and she listenin
At the same time, watchin how a nigga glistenin
Bling! bling! Im thinkin its bout time to go Get the b out of valet and start the late night show
Niggas hate, I know but I dont stop I shine
Im in the club every week, same place, same time
Same thing on the mind, party! party!
So the hell with all that, we tryin to find somebody
The right kind fore the lights come off
Shit, Im tryin to take sumpin home
Now if I buy you a drink and you drink it up Then, uh, you goin home with me (and all my niggas say)
And if you talkin at a party and we talk too much
Then, uh, we goin home with me Now if you came with a friend that dont wanna do my man
Then you need to give her your keys
Tell her to call you tomorrow or give you a beep
Cause tonight, you going home with me, ya heard?
Now, is it because my names jermaine? no Its all about how I kick my game, you know?
I just flow with it, spend a little dough with it Entertain, before you know, Im in your brain doing my thang
Tellin you how good you smell
Send you up for a drop top cruise through the a-t-l
Now when they tipsy, its risky, you dont know what you facin
Fuck around and end up like anthony mason
So I letem know a few things before we leave
Like, «its true, I tapes damn near everything»
So dont even think about lyin, baby
Or try baby, to set me up for rape cause its all on tape
Where you said put the cake
How you fed me the grapes
What I did with the ice that made you shake, shake
Now when the nights over and the girl is gone
Im back up in the club singin the same damn song
Now, walk in, Im the grown man that you figure to trick
But Im feelin your dress, girl and lovin your hips
But Im buggin off this, «why you stuck on the wrist? «Golddigger, huh, mommy? oh, you aint that bitch?
Aint that some shit? suddenly, you hugs and kisses
Gotta be the dough you holdin so obvious wit it I get gs to flash, t.v.s in the dash
See sinbad, watchin vibe, ladies clockin to ride
Luxury flows, lengerie hoes, r.o.c. hitem mo than jose conseco
Uh, rbis, orange top fly, the brown skin, slim
The nice braids, brown eyes
R.o.c.s stay pimpin from jersey to richmond
Yall playas waitin to ball like 6th men
Im done with the game, point spread by a hundred
Speakin of hundreds, fives is a nice way to slide it, lets ride