Steppin' out the door, one thing in my thoughts 944 in schwarz Foot to the floor, hear the roar of the sports exhaust Michelin pilot sports See a big batty in the tiniest shorts like, "Cor", had me stiff as a corpse Lickin' lipstick same colour as tomato sauce Hope she ain't sore, what a sort (Yeah) See I clocked that the hair and the nails all false, though I still wanna beat, of course I get the hors d'oeuvres and the main course with just discourse, I ain't gotta use force Man are ballin', we soon touch Forbes Parkin' the Porsche in my Jordan 4's Broads get the bum done on fraud, get caught and recover in jail abroad Niggas still poor, pretending they important, stuntin' in rentals that ain't insured Yeah, stepped in the party wrecked Bare pop stars keep asking for Ket Racist shit should offend me except Well, I had a little bit as I recollect Singer tellin' stories, gettin' upset 'Bout all the times she was pressured for sex Yeah she didn't know that to find success She'd have to blow as many record execs I backed off, yeah I didn't wanna press Imagine my shock as she bares her breasts Almost felt bad watchin' her undress Spat in her mouth as per her request Who am I to question this mess? Party was weird anyway, so I left Open each door, don't know what to expect Found man in the pool, face down, dead