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Freaky Lyrics

from Food for Thought

"Freaky" is track #2 on the album Food for Thought. It was written by Moore, Rufus / Johnson, Anderson D. Jr. / Jones, Jerome / Williamson, Charles.
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"Freaky" is track #2 on the album Food for Thought. It was written by Moore, Rufus / Johnson, Anderson D. Jr. / Jones, Jerome / Williamson, Charles.
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Girl drop, get low like ya just heard the groove pop
P pop, butterfly, booty bounce, peculator, pony ride
Old school flip, do the mash potatoes
I don't care just look freaky

Yo man in the club who's so sneaky
Yo voice like "Michelle I" so squeaky
[Incomprehensible] you Shaniqwa, Shardinae
All yall got stripper names baby we could play

But I got a clothin' line, we specialize in lingerie
Walkin' like you on a runway scrounge
For this performance I took my braids out
Man I'm killin' this track until it fades out

Shake da bottle den release the cork
And let it spray out, spray dese broads down
Wet T-shirt contest, 500 dollars to the mommy
Wit the firmest breast yes

I think I'm catchin' the flu 'cuz you sick
Chicks get wet as soon as I spit
Freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky
Freaky, freaky, freaky

I think I'm catchin' the flu 'cuz you sick
Chicks go crazy when dey see my whip
Freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky
Freaky, freaky, freaky

If you too damn drunk den dis track will annoy you
Stop hatin' on a true baller who'll employ you
All dese ladies wanna take me home
Guaranteed I ain't leavin' dis club alone

All dis ass in here think I aint gettin' some
Sippin' on coke and rum gettin' numb
Momma shake it like a salt shaka
You and yo ying yang twinz

I'm thug girl I ain't tuckin' my chain in
Why you wearin' a fur mothafucka it's rainin'
You look like a fool for girls what chu gamin'
You should think about goin' home and changin'

Cadillac escalade what I get brains in
Roll my eyes to the back of my head
Like I'm trippin' on heron, got my head on sped on
She got a chest like Vivica, booty like that chick on Outkast video
Here come the hook here we go

I think I'm catchin' the flu 'cuz you sick
Chicks get wet as soon as I spit
Freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky
Freaky, freaky, freaky

I think I'm catchin' the flu 'cuz you sick
Chicks go crazy when dey see my whip
Freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky
Freaky, freaky, freaky

Let it go, let it go
Let it go, let it go
Let it go, let it go
Let it go, let it go

Got 300 dems got a few broads just be runnin' nems
Smellin' like over with the Christian
Not waitin' in line just get pushed in yeah we pushed in
Young rome and black got 'em gone of a con and yack
Pull up on got the crack oh, phat farm laced to the A 1
You kno a betta pimp, naw it ain't one

You and you get back stage
You and you get the gas faze
You and you way passed age
You right there you be nasty

Wanna creep wit me
Wanna freak wit me so frequently
You kno how G's be
The young guerilla wit the icy scrilla
Ma don't you kno I'm the illest

I think I'm catchin' the flu 'cuz you sick
Chicks get wet as soon as I spit
Freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky
Freaky, freaky, freaky

I think I'm catchin' the flu 'cuz you sick
Chicks go crazy when dey see my whip
Freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky, freaky
Freaky, freaky, freaky

Damn she got a fat ass too

Let it go
Let it go
Let it go
...

Songwriters
MOORE, RUFUS / JOHNSON, ANDERSON D. JR. / JONES, JEROME / WILLIAMSON, CHARLES

Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, EMI Music Publishing, Royalty Network

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