Fresh - Sts

Patten leather Pradas, in my b-boy stance

Armani black tee, with my dick in my hands

All the ladies jockin', looking for romance

But I just wanna do it like the Nike brand

Girlys' say I’m fly, say she like my style

Plus I got the best dressed MySpace profile

I ask her her name, she said Shante

Like the real Roxanne but it’s spelled a different way

So we dilly-dally, drank a shot of

She took me to the car to smoke Cali

She had a white Jetta Rabbit that was so impressive

It had gold trim, and gold

Baby she was bad in a major way

But I just needed love like LL Cool J

And I was on my game so I could not miss

She had on fifty-four eleven’s, and it went like this

I was funky fresh, she was ice-cold

We was at the club so you know how it goes

The DJ, he was cuttin', mixin' up jam

So I had to grab the mic so she would know who I am

«Coming to the mic, we got your boy

STS, Sugar Tongue Slim, all the way from Atlanta, Georgia

Ya’ll give it up, let’s go»

Hell naw, dog, they don’t know me

It’s all broads in the Cadillac, say O. G

The whole squad got battle raps, plus high heat

Now we can spit it at you, or just ride to the beat, it’s that deep

Concrete like the definition of what’s street

You in the wrong lane, thinkin' you cuttin' off me, me

Four-wheelin' and concealing something that will get you crumpin'

Got your wires criss crossed, what I toss will get you jumpin'

Slumpin' in your big toys, thought ya’ll was Big Boi

What happened with the beef, huh, did the shit spoil?

but don’t strike, gotta' lot of life in ya'

Don’t fight, your best bet is to go right, aiight

STS flow better than I dress, blow cess when I’m stressed

If I did it, won’t confess to the bullshit the rest

To get the cops off the block

We post bail, roll a 'L', and get back to hip-hop

So I took her to the bar, and started blowing my snaps

Henny got her loose, and now she running the trap

Baby she was with it, I was down to kick it

Wrote me down the address, followed by the digits

Grabbed my Starter jacket from the check coat girl

Hopped up in the Caddy, bumping Ready for the World

Cruising down the avenue, puffing my jane

One fly nigga driving hoes insane

Pulled up to the house about a quarter 'til two

She was looking fresh, and I was feeling brand new

Sat me on the bed, started rubbing my back

Lit me up an 'L', told me try to relax

You dealing with a mack, girl, I’m cool as a fan

And that’s when she went and put my mic in her hand

We did it like this, we did it like that

I beat it up so bad, she thought I had a Wiffle bat