Album: Ultraviolence
White lines, pretty baby, tattoos
Don't know what they mean, they're special, just for you
White palms, baking powder on the stove
Cooking up a dream, turning diamonds into snow
I feel you, pretty baby, feel me
Turn it up hot, loving you is free
I like it down, like it down way low
But you already know that
You already know
Come on down to Florida
I got something for ya
We could see the kilos on the keys, baby, oh ya
Gourds in the summertime
Chic-a-Cherry Cola lime
Prison isn't nothing to me if you'll be by my s-
Yayo, yayo, yayo
And all the dope fiends
Yayo, yayo, yayo
Zoom in my miles and gold hoops
You like your little baby like you like your drinks, cool
White lines, pretty daddy, go skiing
You snort it like a champ, like the winte we're not in
Come on down to Florida
I got something for ya
We could see the kilos on the keys, baby, oh ya
Gourds in the summertime
Chic-a-Cherry Cola lime
Prison isn't nothing to me if you'll be by my s-
Yayo, yayo, yayo
And all the dope fiends
Yayo, yayo, yayo
We could get high in Miami or dance the night away
Even when I die in Miami, that's what they all say
(You believe me, don't you baby?)
Come on down to Florida
I got something for ya
We could see the kilos or the Keys, baby, oh ya
Guns in the summertime
Drink a Cherry Cola lime
Prison don't mean nothing to me if you'll be by my
Yayo, yayo, yayo
All the Floridians like
Yayo, yayo, yayo
All the Colombians like
Yayo, yayo, yayo
And all my girlfriends
Yayo, yayo, yayo
That's how we do it, like
Mm-mm, pretty baby
White lines, pretty baby
Gold teeth, pretty baby
Dance the night away