secrets. Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, whoa-oh. ♪. I'ma have to take a mugshot, baby. What you're doin' to me is criminal, out here. On my knees, I'm prayin'. In the room, on the floor with the lights down. Clothes in
so bad. Saved up enough. To rent an apartment. Far away from mom and dad. My Christmas card. Looks like a mugshot. ‘Cause suddenly I’m getting sad. Been waiting for today but. All I can think to say is
put some flyers in circulation. Stuck one in my door with a scary mugshot. They're looking for some bad boys, height, weight, age, race, tattoos too. And they're fryin' up that hair in that little
you. 'Bout you, you-you-you-you-you. There's something in his eyes. He's keeping secrets. Have to take a mugshot, baby. What you're doin' to me is criminal, out here. On my knees, I'm prayin'. In the
Chuck Taylor, the jacket is a Starter. I? Nigga we can get it started. If you ain't Nas or the nigga on the Third Carter. My happy face is Kenneth Supreme mugshot. When it's goin' down, who gon' stop
smilin' in my mugshot (yeah, yeah). We on e'rybody ass. All the shorties who real, who wanna slide, turn them droughts? (Skrrt). I don't care where we at, we can have a shootout in Calabasas (brrt). I'm
