[Verse 1]
Friday night, and yo, we just got paid
We're on our way to sight Miami, F-L-A nightlife to promenade
It's time to say exactly where to route the streets to scout freaks…
The words that collectively come out each mouth be South Beach
We seek to reach the sheets of Hotel suites that's candy coated
So, yo, if you're bringing a van, you'd better believe it's gonna get loaded
To the full. Cause RBM is in effect to that extent
We rent a hundred percent of the b**hes at the age of consent
(So here we go) We hit the spot about a quarter to twelve-
It's Tone, Logic, Opie 1, and G-I-double the L
Craze is the definition of record spinnin' precision
Gettin' chicks in position's the mission of this expedition
So, my vision is in focus on the dancefloor
More ‘Get-It, Get It'- ‘Shake That Ass'- who*es than you could ask for/
And as for Logic, there was some blonde b**h with some tits that looked atomic saying she want it-/
That calculated n***a's counting on it/
Ope and Gill were scoopin' b**hes by the numbers/
So I began to wonder If I would pa** to wax that a** before my slumber/
U under A full-over-Miami-moon/
But soon enough She simply hit me with a smile and said, “Hi, my name is Trixie.”/
She said she was a Gypsy, told me I was s**y/
Wanted to show me she could do origami with her p**y lips/
She tried to kiss me on the spot, I guess she deemed she felt the need/
I said, “I know you're fast Trixie, but my name is not Speed.”/
She was barely 19, but, f**, the b**h was lookin' wicked/
With them type of D-S-L's that screamed for you to put your dick inside her mouth/
She'd turn it out, I'm shoutin' no doubt and no question/
When it comes to blows this girl would cave your f**in' chest in/
So, next in the mode of operations is to ditch/
With Trixie, Logic, Opie, Gill, and the Atomic Titty b**h/
I flip the switch to open the trunk, so we can load the extra baggage/
Now it seems we've got more people than I think the van can manage/
So, yes, I begin to panic, And, man, I'm throwin fits/
And I'm just swerving, cause I can't see past atomic b**h's tits/
Now, ‘Ahh, sh**', here come the pigs and they be burnin' my tail/
They said, “Excuse me, Tone, we heard you had some herb to inhale…”/
I said, “I'm sorry, officer, I'm not that type of MC./
See, I embellish the status of my creativity/
(y) b**hes are my addiction when the rhythm can't be/
But, I won't tell no one you asked me if you let me go free.”/
He said, “Si”, which translated to our a**es moving on to the part of the song that had us naked in the sauna at Motel Iguana/
Now, Opie's b**h's name was Shauna and Gill's was Ivana/
And those two hookers was too live to be as nasty as they wanna/
Talkin' ‘bout whips and hand-cuffs, claiming only when they're battered and bruised they've had ‘nuff/
Now, that's ruff and tumble sh** I'm not equipped to handle/
If she wants to be a masochist, then that's a b**h I can't get with/
They said, “Chill.” Took off the panties, spread legs they flexed/
Certain proceeds of the paychecks went towards latex for safe s**/
It's time to get my face wet, the p**y taste test/
Trixie tells me my Dick tastes best while I remove the b**h's playtex/
The s**ual Apex. This scene resembles an X-rated playset/
Swinging upon the dicks they park on, So, now the place gets/
Hotter than steam boats. Pull out the willie in a hurry/
She said, “Damn, you're dick is bigger than them words from Keith Murray”/
‘Yo, it bee's like that sometimes', stinging that a** with fury/
Don't wear no yellow jacket, still Georgia Tech hoes prefer me/
‘Cause you can't lose with this big Johnson, it's a casino up in here/
Because it's Licker up front and Poker in the rear/
I strip and lose the T-Shirt. We flirt with penetration for a second/
I tickled the clit, ‘cause I figured the b**h would now resort to beggin'/
I'm slippin' the dick in with that special move for wreckin'/
Checkin' the f**s like hockey pucks and a** attackin' like it's Tekken 2/
I betcha guessin' who would ever have a night (Such as)/
The one I'm talkin' about, where me and the crew be gettin' (Much a**)/
Not poppin' trash, but, yo, Any dirt could happen/
So, uh, Just gimme a second so I can keep that a** splackin
[Verse 2]
So, anyways, as I was saying, yo, the f**fest proceeds/
Four kids be fixed in friction, four hookers be on their knees/
Like in one way or the other, either, they're lickin' co*ks or gettin rocked/
Just when you thought 8 was enough- well it's not/
(Knock, Knock) who's at the door?/
I be trippin over them hookers on the floor Tryin' to get my pants on/
Hey, yo, it's 3:34 in the morning, time's pa**ed on/
Yo, it was Mannyphesto and DJ Craze with their grasps on/
2 other Rave b**hes that I didn't recognize/
Sized ‘em up enough to give the ‘Go Head', so they could dive/
Into the Live wire strip twister match we had going…/
Tits and Ass showin', everybody hoeing' in the place/
No space, it was a blatant exhibition/
Face fishin' between the hips till we create the next position in the Kama Sutra/
We shoot to make the text revisions/
‘Sutra' comma; Makin' ‘em scream for preposition repetitions/
No matter how cute you are, you're probably a future star for p**no/
Rubbing my dick in the car, so, yo, quit trying to act so formal/
Her s**ual appetite's beyond abnormal, so you know that when the morn' breaks/
She want's to eat another bowl of p**n Flakes/
But, there's a double meaning to the term/
Second being a ditsy-b**h that keeps it creamin' on a firm co*k/
And she can burn spots and light ‘em up; she never minds a f**/
She'll even make a frigid n***a turn hot to ride him up/
But, right now, I'm tryin' to s** this hoochie's coochie/
While f**in' the brains out this b**h that's workin' my dick, and I'm hearing “SWITCH!”/
It's a house party, baby, kids be glued to the couch/
The time has cum for n***as to do the same and ‘Spoochindamouth'!/
So, yo, we're bustin' nuts, and us- we aim at the chin/
And I lost it when Logic said to his b**h, “Yo, what's your name again?”/
Gilligan, Opie, Craze, and Mannyphesto did the same/
But, before I had the chance to change, Yo, I noticed something strange./
There was something about Trixie that really bothered me/
A big ole' f**in' grin on her face like she just won the lottery/
When I figured she oughtta be brushing her teeth or finding her bra…/
But, Yo, my eyes were in awe when she bust out the chainsaw/
My brain stalled for a second I hopped back with no hesitation/
I caught the relation of this hooker's saw and mutilation/
The closer she came, the more we shouted/
She said, “Motherf**ers, you're ‘bout to suffer the same fame as John Bobbitt!”/
Suddenly, the cameramen jumped out the closet/
And that tig-ole' bitty b**h's tits turned out to be atomic/
And them Shauna and Ivana girls were totally robotic/
And them 2 rave b**hes-well, they were knotted from the jump./
(But, Anyhow) This Trixie b**h was wiggin' on me, on the spot/
She said, “It's men like you who turn us women into s**pots/
And meat- pieces objectified. I'm here to rectify the stain!”/
Then the girl took off her face and, goddamn, “It's Chasey Lain”/
Then they all took off their masks and what a change if I've ever seen/
To Sunset hookers, actresses, and Supermodel Beauty Queens/
I wonder what this truly means… It's all a scheme to make me pay/
For being a Dog, yo, f** this, move out b**h get outta my way—” (Chainsaw ensues)