LA Lisa

No, it ain't a question, not even an issue
Nobody knows you like I know ya'
You grew up on Queen Street
Your dad is a gangsta' but he's gettin' older
You was in love with the street life
Used to seein' niggas, tuckin' the heat right
Loud parties and street fights
Hangin' with the players, got caught in the game
Now you're in need of seating, but ain't we all the same
I thought if we make it out alive
You might give you part to my side
Guess we'll have to wait and see
If you'll find your way to me
La Lisa
La Lisa
La Lisa
I need ya'
Right, I'ma stack these up right
That's my cuz, so he gangbang
But I don't claim shit, nah, no baggage, not even a briefcase
You more street than me, but
Don't leave me strung out this way
Get a little ratchet, stay over color, your box
Don't tell your daddy, he might go crayola
Hurry up and come outside
I got the wheel parked, it's 'bout to get dark
I'm talkin' Wesley, and we out West, you know it be
Sit these niggas on your block
And I can't do dolo this time, on a solo this time like CeCe
[?] no whinin'
I ain't finna' play with you, I'm tryna skate with you
Like T.I. [?] on the cops late at night like Fatlib
I'm fallin', she got used to them [?] she a [?]
Darlin', Miss Lisa, she a moaner
So bad, put your ass in the moment
Yes, put that on my momma
Pour more wet, it's a moment
She finally took to my house
And threw it back like [?], it made me speak portuguese
Didn't even know I could
Been wantin' this for a while
We keep it between you and me, capice, Lisa
La Lisa
La Lisa
La Lisa
I need ya'
I can't belive this nigga ain't call me back
Ol' Chief Keef head ass, Michelle Pfeiffer of 8 Mile lookin' head ass
He ain't call me back? (Can't believe this)
I bet he don't even write his songs
Talkin' 'bout, talkin' 'bout he the king of RnB
That nigga can't even move like Usher
Ain't Chris workin' on something? (He trippin') Mhmm
I thought we had a good time
Well I had a good time, that we was fire bro