gon' work on the stomach Nobody wants a little tight ass! [Verse 1] 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and get them sit ups right and Tuck your tummy tight and do your
me call up the President Or Michael Jackson, or Frank Sinatra With two hundred million dollars, baby I got'cha A hot dog, now take a Coke and a frank And
me funky, each and every single day I pump beats Hip-hop is my favourite but I'm a music junkie Trust me, my whole life, rhythm in my head At night before
gon' work on the stomach Nobody wants a little tight ass! [Verse 1] 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and get them sit ups right and Tuck your tummy tight and do
Nigga Nigga Nigga.. Nigga You can laugh and criticize Michael Jackson if you wanna Woody Allen, molested and married his step-daughter Same press kickin dirt on Michael's name Show Woody and
have more money than michael jackson oakland can I get some action hey young tender in the 501's I love to see when you work your tongue suckin my dick
to Long Island And every place in between cause I'm a Chiller And like Michael Jackson, more than a Thriller I'm shinin' bright like a sun where the sea blocks And
bike And you would give me anything in this world Michael Jackson leather and the glove, but didn't give me a curl (Hey Mama) And you never put no man
bike And you would give me anything in this world Michael Jackson leather and the glove, but didn't give me a curl (hey Mama) And you never put no man