Show Me REMIX

Woo baby
I said baby, yeah yeah
Uh mustard on the beat, go!

Baby let me put your panties to the side (uh)
I'ma make you feel alright (right, right)
I'ma give you what you need quick, baby it's the remix

Mami you remind me of something (baby you remind me)
But I don't know what it is (I don't even know)
'Cause you remind me of something (girl you gotta show me)
Girl you gotta show me, yeah (alright)
You remind me of something (baby you remind me)
But I don't know what it is right now (I don't even know)
'Cause you remind me of something (uh)
Girl you gotta show me

Uh, on the real, no
West coast back like '94
Just picture me rollin' in my own lane
Should of listened to the hype though, hold that
And show me something
Dj ain't palying nothing but mustard
Catch up to the bandwagon, fuck us friday
I'm feeling like the old Chris Tucker
And we go for the record
Trying to go platinum
And add a couple karats
Being low key kinda hard with the cameras
Her boyfriend here
But she looking so careless

Baby you remind me of something (baby you remind me) (uh)
But I don't know what it is (I don't even know)
'Cause you remind me of something (uh)
Girl you gotta show me, yeah (alright)
You remind me of something (uh)
But I don't know what it is right now
'Cause you remind me of something
Girl you gotta show me (alright)

Hold up
Don't you know that this the remix
And she just got her weave fixed
Niggas go and get your weed lit
All my Cali niggas need it
Let's get to that booty that you throwin' around baby
I give that booty work, I'ma never go lazy
Dancing with your girl, in your own world
Face like an Angel, is it wrong?
I can't wait to bang you (pow)

How you acting like a little devil?
Speed up, slow down
Whoa now, gas pedal
Clap it, smack it, grab it
Tyrin' tell you
Booty dumb, booty dumb
Yeah that ass special

Baby you remind me of something
But I dont know what it is (I dont even know)
'Cause you remind me of something
Girl you gotta show me
Baby you remind me of something
But I dont know what it is right now
'Cause you remind me of something
Girl you gotta show me (yeah)

Bring it back, let's get it baby
I just wanna fork you at the dinner table
Shawty come pull up a seat at the winners table
We don't get attached, we too busy getting paper
Foreign cars make 'em both lose they top
Just turned 21 and she fiendin' for shots
Heard she from the west coast, all she fuck with is pacs
So I give her California love while I'm high (uh-huh)

Like, you remind me of somethin'
Leave the club, we can bang like we from Compton
Pull a lambo round back
Bellaire we down there
Make a movie in the club
Shawty this the soundtrack

Baby you remind me of something
But I don't even know what it is (I don't know)
'Cause you remind me of something
Girl you gotta show me (alright)
Baby you remind me, you remind me of something (uh)
But I don't know what it is right now (I don't know)
'Cause you remind me of something
Girl you gotta show me, yeah

Baby if you know what it is
(On the real, can't lie, mean you're just my type)
Hands in the air, lookin' for a bitch right now
(On the real, can't lie, mean you're just my type)

Two red girls, eating red beans and rice
We popeyes eat hot fries
You should see what i got parked outside
I kiss my girl every time I'm at a stop sign
My ex left me for another nigga
Then she realized she stuck with a sucker nigga
Uh yeah, you a go getta', then you should go get her
The type to put forgiatos on a four wheeler

I put violators on the floor seat
I'm getting money and you sattin' on my broke meter
A stripper say she need I save coupons
Just bought a Cadi, that bitch came with Grey poupon

Baby let me put your panties to the side
I'ma make you feel alright
I'ma give you what you need quick (need, yeah)
Baby its the remix

Baby you remind me of something (I don't even know)
But I dont know what it is
'Cause you remind me of something
Girl you gotta show me
Baby you remind me of something
Nevermind I don't know what it is (right now)
'Cause you remind me of something (oh!)
Girl you gotta show me

Show (baby if you know what it is)
On the real, can't lie, mean you're just my type
Hands in the air, lookin' for a bitch right now
On the real, can't lie, mean you're just my type (lookin' for ya)



Credits
Writer(s): Jeremy P. Felton, Dijon Isaiah Mcfarlane, Brian Collins Jr., Christian Joel Jones, Christopher Maurice Brown, Fred Craig Mcfarlane, Allen George, Mikely Wilhelm Adam
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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