Lookin&9 too fly walkin&9 to the bar
Niggas wanna stop, askin&9 who I are
Hands on my waist tryna find out
If I&9m gonna flip off of one drink and can he get down
I&9m a rock hip-hop pop star
Can&9t check out the door in a fast car
Never run from nothin&9 when I come thru
Roll with the realest that can take out your whole crew

(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
I can make a whole song talk shit!

(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
I can make a whole song talk shit!

I don&9t like to dance to a slow song
You too close and I can&9t get my groove on
Drop a beat and let a girl feel somethin&9
I&9m so gutter, watch me two-step to somethin&9
Tippy-toes tip and make a mean walk
I ain&9t tryna listen to your big talk
High off my drink for the third time
Boy, come and get it
Watch me make these niggas fall in line

(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
I can make a whole song talk shit!

(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
I can make a whole song talk shit!
&9Bout to head to the hills &9fore I pass out
Get my coat from the check &9fore I spaz out
Pull my whip to the front and I jump in
Catch a look comin&9 from the niggas in the black Benz
Red light and now they tryna hop in
(Remember when I was in school, I was your boyfriend)
Got the tint so we never entertain those
Hungry-ass groupies on the phone like they got hoes

(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
I can make a whole song talk shit!

(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
I can make a whole song talk shit!

Now I&9m feelin&9 m&9m, m&9m good
Eyes filled up with the bloodshots
Look like a lay-up with the legs out
Now he&9s tryna get a lick but I&9m all gone

Keep, keep talkin&9
Keep, keep talkin&9
Keep, keep talkin&9
Keep, keep talkin&9

Who&9s this man who&9s not star?
Yet you wondering who I are
On track with rock hip-hop star, the pop star
Who the man behind hot bars?
Smoke, I&9m soon to be popular
Now, where he from?
Is it my city, your city?
All you need to know, I come from a dope city
Never shoot the boys, still keep the dope Bentley
Text to the cush with a chase of the Henny
And when I&9m lookin&9 for a freak, really picky-picky
And if it smell icky, tell her pull up her Vickie&9s
But if it smell alright, I might do the licky-licky
Let you suck on my neck but, please, no hickie-hickies

(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
I can make a whole song talk shit!

(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
(Hicky-Hicky-Hicky) Aww shit!
I can make a whole song talk shit!