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You need a future daddy Give me my petter pan When I hit the club it will be me an my conceited friend Been signing autographs Since like a quarter past I'm in the hallway, don't need no hall pass If I eat it then everybody gonna order that Everything I do these bitches wishin they'da thought of that I'm a indian giver I want the quarter back If hip hop was dead, bitch I just brought her back Take it to the off I'm a take it take it off I'm a take it to the club Then I'm a take it to the log I'm a take it to my niggas, I'm a take it to the boss I'm a giggle it giggle it Bakin soda soft I'm a put it in ya face, I'm a pt it in ya braids The way I make it pop, you can put me in the space Make it rain as a ten thousand dollar day Poppin like champaign on a holiday From Letras Mania