Lookin' too fly walkin' to the bar   Niggas wanna stop, askin' who I are   Hands on my waist tryna find out   If I'm gonna flip off of one drink   And can he get down      I'm a rock hip-hop pop star   You check out the doe and the fast car   Never run from nothin' when I come through   Roll with the realest that can take out your whole crew      (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   I can make a whole song talk shit!      (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   I can make a whole song talk shit!      I don't like to dance to a slow song   You're too close and I can't get my groove on   Drop a beat and let a girl feel somethin'   I'm so gutter, watch my two-step do somethin'      Tippy-toes tip and make a mean walk   I ain't tryna listen to your big talk   High off my drink for the third time   Boy, come and get it   Watch me make these niggas fall in line      (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   I can make a whole song talk shit!      (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   I can make a whole song talk shit!      ?Bout to head to the hills ?fore I pass out   Get my coat from the check ?fore I spaz out   Pull my whip to the front and I jump in   Catch a look comin' from the niggas in the black Benz      Red light and now they tryna hop in   (Remember when I was in school, I was your boyfriend?)   Got the tint so we never entertain those   Hungry-ass groupies on the phone like they got hoes      (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   I can make a whole song talk shit!      (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   I can make a whole song talk shit!      Now I'm feelin' mmm, mmm good   Eyes filled up with the bloodshots   Look like a lay-up with the lights out   Now he's tryna get a lick but I'm all gone      Keep, keep talkin'   Keep, keep talkin'   Keep, keep talkin'   Keep, keep talkin'      Who's this man who's not star?   Yet you wondering who I are   On track with rock hip-hop star, the pop star   Who the man behind hot bars?   Smoke, I'm soon to be popular      Now, where he from?   Is it my city, your city?   All you need to know, I come from a dope city   Never shoot the boys, still keep the dope Bentley   Taste to the kush with a chase of the Henny      And when I'm lookin' for a freak, really picky-picky   And if it smell icky, tell her pull up her Vickie's   But if it smell alright, I might do the licky-licky   Let you suck on my neck but, please, no hicky-hickies      (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   I can make a whole song talk shit!      (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   (Hicky-hicky-hicky)   Aww shit!   I can make a whole song talk shit!