Brooke Candy, Liz - With Me lyrics

Uh, uh

I want, I want, I want a D-boy villain
Cold game killing
Ms candy, if you nasty, pipe game illing
Gimme poom-poom feeling, honey pot
Hot drilling bareback on some benji stacked
Half to the ceiling, like ooh
Come in here, let me put it on you
Show me what your magic stick can do
Tell me everything that you into
'Cause I'ma give it to ya

Boy, I think you freaky, how you want it
Mr dicky?
Come on, lick it 'til it's squeaky
Thinkin' 'bout it got me leaky
Got me gushy for the cookie
He don't want it from no rookie
When he get up in the
Nookie he like "Brookey, Brookey, brookey!"

Even if you had no paper
Sippin' on the cheap champagne
I would love every hangover if it
Meant you were with me
Rather be in your scraper than sittin'
First class on a plane
I would love every traffic jam if
It meant you were with me

I need a Iggy, I need a Nicki
A bad bitch to get me off the Pretty Ricky
I need a Miley, or a Britney
Or a Beyoncé for a quicky

Okay, tongue game strong, I be workin'
Girl, the way I kiss the
Kitty have you twerkin'
We got your man so hard that he hurtin'
He said he'd only wanna watch
But now he jerkin' well, okay
Y'all ain't know that Brookey
Brooke was so cray when they hear this shit
The fuck they gon' say?
I'm too wild for the radio to play
(That’s real) but I'ma give it to 'em

Boy, I think you freaky, how you want it
Mr dicky?
Come on, lick it 'til it's squeaky
Thinkin' 'bout it got me leaky
Got me gushy for the cookie
He don't want it from no rookie
When he get up in the
Nookie he like "Brookey, Brookey, brookey!"

Even if you had no paper
Sippin' on the cheap champagne
I would love every hangover if it
Meant you were with me
Rather be in your scraper than sittin'
First class on a plane
I would love every traffic jam if
It meant you were with me

Nobody cares your kiss is
Worth a million bucks
Ballin’ out, we drinkin' out of plastic cups
Somebody crashin' at a parking lot motel
Feels like home
I don't know how you do so well
Mirror on our phone
It's the real deal, gangsta love

Even if you had no paper
Sippin' on the cheap champagne
I would love every hangover if it
Meant you were with me
Rather be in your scraper than sittin'
First class on a plane
I would love every traffic jam if
It meant you were with me