Miranda

Yo, man, just let her live, man, stop playing, man

Oh, shit, B, where's Miranda? (She with Chef)

I dreamed it, Chef out in Cuba, a ruger

Thirty thou' on him, out in Mr. Chow, blew a cloud on him

Seen a Latin chick, laughing, clapping

Like your style, homey, tell your proud, hit the Crystal

Now we chatting, coebers and klickos, who do this a size six

She split up, had a brick, I peeped those

Her jeans was fitted, hair twisted, long as a fuck

She looked Indian, titties was plump

Had juicy lips, dimples, imprint on her pussy was mad thick

She grabbed my dick, hopped in the window

We in the Monte Carlo, bravo, uncle named Pablo

Gun connect, and he had his poke in Los Cabos

Good money, honey was strung, playing Luther in the background

Spanish version, my bunny was horny as fuck

Working the kid, we burst later, lay in the bed

Duvet sheets, my face hit the spread

Then time me, I'm not the kind of nigga, I was cool down at night

Drop my gun, shorty, my nigga

Body was sexy, "Lexy, come here, nigga, take off your drawers

Let me suck your dick, nigga, it's yours

Got real watery, Corey, damn you got good dick

You forty" spit on it, position your jaw

Call me 8-Ball, this pussy like China, climb the Great Wall

Then she came like volcanos in the late fall

Lady Miranda, she half black and white like a panda

I met her at the BET Awards, in Atlanta

Glamor girl, shopping in Bloomingdale's, skin pure

Keep a fresh manicure, hands with the cutest nails

Wall Street banker, hold accounts with Jewish now

Big businessmen, who own stocks in computer sales

Meanwhile, I'm checking her jeans out, imagining

Her fat bubble, riding my dick, making her scream out

She got a mean mouth, her lips is like soup coolers

Hotter than niggas riding around with six rugers

Miss Beaulah took a day off with a rich jeweler

When she came back she had a suitcase full of Fig Newtons

I met her at a villa in Vancouver, blowing her man's buddah

Bumping Mary J. and that Grand Puba

Check the 411, from a smooth operator

Got some pictures of her naked, I'll send them to Un later

Ay Dio mio, mamacita ass bonita

Remind me of the nights of Del Rio

I met at the Cotto fights, playing my seat though

That night, the linen was white, me and my hijos

Live from Puerto Rico, San Juan, where niggas sniff pedrico

Look at your man wrong, finito

Girl you know how we go, you getting my grown man on

Fuck with you primo, maybe I'm hands on, I'll massage your ego

And be the love of your life, you know your people, a thug and his wife

Gave a look, she was touching my ice, so I looked at my dick

Like don't worry, we fucking tonight

She boricua, cinnamon skin, sign is Libra

She like wife beaters and men that like to eat her

Then I meet your feet up, meet me in room 112, light this reefer

You act right, and after tonight, I might keep ya