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lirik lagu mess it up – psc

[chorus: big kuntry king]
he can take you to the mall, and dress you up
get your hair done, do it all
’cause all i wanna do is s-x you up
pull your hair and mess it up
he can take you to the mall, and dress you up
get your hair done, do it all
’cause all i wanna do is s-x you up
pull your hair and mess it up

[verse 1: ak]
ain’t no special b-tches, sh-t, we talk to you all the same way
same way, me and him f-cked you on the same day
p-ss the purple, don’t you like the way i press connect
i let you drive
in her thighs, soaking wet i’m mesmerized
that little bitty skirt, them big o’l legs
shawty said “break some bread”
i said “look you ain’t got to beg”
i ain’t that type of player
i get hoes, i ain’t gotta pay them
gimme my shopping bag and take your -ss to pick-a-player

[verse 2: c-rod]
baby, i heard you got a cake mixer, sugar daddy
spending up them benjamins
i heard he got you a lot of things, even a new mercedes benz
chanel, gucci, fendi, prada, all the things you look good in
your own personal m-sseuse, now your muscles easy to bend
gone before the weekend, i’m here for the weekend
just you and i, victoria, keep a secret
i’m swearin’ now to h-ll, i ain’t done ’til i see the sun
crush that noise ‘fore you wake the neighbors up

[verse 3: t.i.]
louis, gucci, prada kicks, fendi, and a lotta sh-t
he bought it all to tell ’em how you suckin’ nuts and swallowin’ d-ck
he think you just a college b-tch, you ain’t been to college, b-tch
you ain’t even know these n-ggas you hollering at [?]
i bet you suck a lotta d-ck, she said “that’s right” with confidence
i called the b-tch a hoe, she took it as a compliment
gagging on the d-ck and drinking nut until she vomited
common sense would tell a n-gga that he ain’t supposed to sponsor this

[verse 4: mac boney]
let me tell you one thing, i’m the man of this house
even if you got another man at the house
what i look like givin’ you some bread to go out
you gon’ hit a n-gga up when the club break out
i’ma play my song, you gon’ show that thong
give me fine head while on my way home
in my ’91 fleetwood, the grill and the chrome
the seats rolled back and it’s 6 in the morning
and i feel like chopping, f-ck ihop
you must be crazy, i ain’t making no stop
the deal was to chill at the spot for an hour
beat the p-ssy up, now i’m back on the highway
talkin’ bout some cash, you can kiss my -ss
don’t, keep it shut ‘fore you make me mad
i’m a cold-hearted mack, you can check my stacks
give a hoe [?], that’s a motherf-ckin’ fact

[verse 5: big kuntry king]
i got you fly in chanel, that high off your smell
look at your eyes and tell you inspire by the pimp attire
lift them thighs in the air
she ain’t like the usual, something like a superwoman
a lot of fools want her, but she diss illusions and keep they hundreds
breaking bread, mainly ’cause i seen that you gon’ make the stacks
yeah i’m a player, that’s why you ask “wanna hit it from the back?”
f-ckin up your new doo, lookin’ like we came out the swimming pool
fast strokin’ your poo-poo, my imagination like voodoo

[verse 6: young dro]
all she get is d-ck from me, she said her name was tifany
no longer do i f-ck with her, i had an epiphany
i keep her ’round, then i be ripping that [?] white zinfandee
ay, i’m squeezing ’em, i’m squeezing ’em
i do it so terrifically
toya, tasha, cara, isha, all wanna get with me
they see me rocking fendi, gucci, prada, ain’t no pimp in me
buy you this, buy you that, why should i?
i am fly
the only thing you need to do is open your mouth, open your thighs

- psc

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