[Chorus]{*"Bass for your trunk" - scratched*}[MURS]She keeps her biz boomin' down front streetOpen with the funk so that no one wants beefShe the type who like to lay it all on the lineSay what's on her mindThat way it ain't a crimeThe crime isHad you shown no shameHad you make those claims like you play no gamesWhen in realityYou the biggest player of them allThe princess that wore the most layers to the ballTryin' to cover up when you layin' in your drawersYou front like you a freak and everything you say is rawBut deep downYou really scared he's gonna leave yaYour closet got more skeletons than the DiaEsqueletoYou worse than my perrosMy dogs, that only fuck with broads from the ghettoYou date losers cause it make you feel superiorTry to tell me lies to justify but all I'm hearin' is the...[Chorus][Slug]She seems like the type with no taste for shameIt walks like a snake then they can't complainNawPeople love you and cling to them raw fumesKeep it up so we don't see through your costumeShe been a little queen since 15In and out of different scenes, never kept her image cleanSo criticalOver analyticalFast forwardOf course, old and miserableLong trail of bread crumbs and head gamesBed bums, the best ones get pet namesFirst glance you can see the dirtCloset door wide openNo need to searchNawThe truth is just an excuseThat you use to polish up a pair of selfish shoesTake it how you wantGo face up the frontCause them skeletons dance to the bass...[Chorus]{*scratching "Drop that" "Bass"*}
