PackFM, Substantial - Upclose & Personal lyrics

I must confess
You're the flyest I ever seen no contest
Don't worry 'bout me, I'm harmless
I just - wanted to let you know
I'm feelin' you to the utmost
How 'bout we get personal and upclose?

I don't give a fuck about your sign
I'm not an astrologist
Your body's off the meter
I'm the leader - you need to follow this
You're divine, stay on my mind
Like a neurologist
Playin' doctor's for little kids
Let's play gynecologist you need some TLC
And I'm trynna creep wit' you
I lost my teddy bear, so baby doll
Can I sleep wit you? Fuck me if I'm wrong
But isn't your name Heather?
I could've sworn that you and I
Went to different schools together
If my name sounds familiar
You should fuck what you heard
The word of the day is legs
Let's go back and spread the word
My name's PackFM, you could call me tomorrow
I lost my phone number
Do you have one I could borrow? Do you spit
Or swallow? What? You don't like my tactics?
Let's get married and have kids
If not - we could practice
It's a shame that I have to mess
Your hair and smudge your makeup
But, if you are what you eat
I hope I'm you when I wake up
Don't raise ya stakes up, follow your heart
Take a chance
Is that a mirror in your pocket? Cuz
I could see myself in your pants
Can we do this romance?
If you ain't know what FM stands for
That means you're Feelin' Me wit no hands

Is this your friend?
Whooo! That's what they say when you walk by
You thought I was the type
Who ain't about nuthin?
Girl, a tear fell when I spotted that onion
First thing on my mind was
Goin' half on a youngin'
And we could make some beautiful
Babies and all that
Own our own crib, picket fence
And "Welcome" doormat
But, I'll hold that till later
I have yet to introduce myself
I'm yours, better known as Stan
A gentleman as you could tell
Not trynna gas ya
(Riight) , just build for a sec or two
And explore your mind long before
I have sex wit' you
(Uh, huh, is that right?)
Yeah, the thought crossed my mind, no doubt
I got the kinda lovin that'll make
You sweat your locks out
Don't look at me as if I
Got no class like a dropout
Pardon a brotha's French but Goddamn
You're a knockout not even a Stan that hates
Enough for me to recover
Seein' heaven face to face does
A number on a brother

Pardon my pushiness, don't mean to be foul
But listen but why you want a dude
Who suffers from malnutrition?
What's FM stand for? I'm here
To solve the mystery
PackFM really means Pack Fudge Maliciously

Pardon his pussiness
But, I'm the one you should be jockin'
Fuckin' wit Stanley
You'll be borrowin his stockings
His "roses are red
Violets are blue" shit is quite annoying
Only thing you 2 might have
In common is former boyfriends

You passin' me up for him? Now that's tragic
This cat's got the sex appeal
Of a crack addict
Sleepin' on me like craftmatics
That's played
I'm hung like a well-endowed runaway slave

Now he gettin' brave for dissin me
Thinkin he's impressin you
Stick wit me and have a
Real professional undressin you
Come here girl
And let me tell you Stan's history
Sure he likes chicks
But loves hot boys like Missy E

Yo that's bulshit! No it's not
Yes it is you know what? Forget you both
Cause, I don't have time for little kids