Fight Fair

She don't fight fair. Fistfuls of my hair, giving me that cold stare, when she wants some
That's why I figured she'd found my trigger. She'd slap my face. We'd leave this place and go have fun

Now I'm spitting up blood, bruises forming around her teeth marks. Girl ain't no sweetheart, I ain't no punk
Take another swing. Make sure this one counts. My little knockout, think you're so tough.

A little scrapper, she don't take no crap, sir. So if you pass her, you better pass on by.
Me, I cross the line. This little heart of mine can take a shock. When I get clocked, I fall every time

That's why I'm spitting up blood, bruises forming around her teeth marks. Girl ain't no sweetheart, I ain't no punk
Take another swing. Make sure this one counts. My little knockout, I think you're so tuff.



Credits
Writer(s): Pete Allen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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