Kick Your Ass

You bring your friends over to watch TV
Some of them even try to hit on me
They leave beer bottles and all kinds of trash
You better shape up boy, or I'ma kick your ass, oh

Do I, do I, gotta kick your-

I put on a dress that fits me nice
You don't even look at me twice
Better put me first, you keep putting me last
You gotta shape up boy, or I'ma kick your ass, oh

Do I, do I, gotta kick your-

Momma help me, ain't nobody help me
You can't believe the truth
I hope you're gettin' the message I'm sendin'
Hey baby, I'm talkin' to you

I'm done with these games that you play with me
Keep it up boy, just wait and see
If I leave tonight, I won't be back
And on my way out, I'ma kick your ass, oh

Do I, do I
Do I, do I
Do I, do I gotta kick your-

And all your friends too



Credits
Writer(s): Thomas Jay Hambridge, Richard Fleming
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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