Hotel ft. Chris Brown - Track Commentary

"Hotel"
(feat. Chris Brown)
I said why you over there lookin' at me?
While I'm with my girlfriend
Why you over there lookin' at me and my girlfriend?
Let's take it to the hotel, let's take it to the hotel
I said why you over there lookin'?
Got a starin' problem and you fuckin'
I know you see my girl, stop frontin'
I could tell you up to a lil' somethin', hol'up
I'ma play it cool, baby roll one
While you make your way and get over here
My girl ain't down then it's over
Just tell her that she look good when I'm over there
In the first play, pour one up
Baby don't be too thirsty
Groupie love ain't ever gon' work
See hoes ain't loyal and never keep it lowkey
That ain't alright
I'ma take a shot, couple shots thru the night
Tell a joke, keep it fun, make her feel it's alright
Give you the game wholesale
And bet a hundred that I take 'em to the hotel
I said why you over there lookin' at me?
While I'm with my girlfriend
Why you over there lookin' at me and my girlfriend?
Let's take it to the hotel, let's take it to the hotel
Take it to the hotel, baby leave with me
Know I got a penthouse suite
I said why you over there lookin' at me?
While I'm with my girlfriend
It's kinda hard when I see you lookin' over here
With them eyes
I got a girl but I'm feelin' your body
So I'ma have to just play both sides
I hope she don't come over here
Cause I'm with my girl, you know I love her
I got two of my bitches in the club
And they about each other, oh no
But a nigga never Paranoid
You fuckin' with a man not a little boy
What? I could barley hear your little voice
In the club but your body makin' all the noise
Clap it up, stack it up
Where your purse? Just pack it up
Grab her hand, tell her we should go now
If you really wanna take this party to the hotel
Over there lookin' all suspicious
Get a clue girl, don't be a mystery
I see you likin' on all my pictures
Of me and my bitch
Up in all of our business
So, you gotta know it ain't a limit to
What appeal and a nigga do
Make a straight girl go down
Just bit down
I might fuck around and lick her too
It ain't a problem, my metabolism high
Eat you both up for dinner
Just keep it real with a real mothafucka
Ain't got time for no pretenders
Now just bring it to me
That fleek, that freak, no classy stuff
Been pushin' up, don't pussy now
Bitch what you really on?



Credits
Writer(s): William Charles Featherstone, Clarence Montgomery Iii, Christopher Scott Featherstone, Maurice Simmonds, Bobby Ray Simmons Jr., Matthew Aaron Featherstone, Justin Daniel Featherstone, Tyrone William Griffin Jr., Dijon Isaiah Mcfarlane, Brian Collins Jr., Christopher Maurice Brown
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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