This Time of Night (feat. Nelly)

We showing up, it's going down
She know it's us, I let her know it now
It's three, four, five in the morning
One thing's for sure is, this time of night
Ain't nothing open but legs, shawty
Ain't nothing open but legs, this time of night
Ain't nothing open but legs, shawty
Ain't nothing open but legs, this time of night

Ass looking on swole
Long hair, pretty toes
Flat stomach, nice face (Okay, she say she wanna)
Ride out to my place
She wanna bring a friend if it's alright
Only if we get it in with her all night
We got them bottles on chill, everybody on pills
In the air with them hands, girl

We showing up, it's going down
She know it's us, I let her know it now
It's three, four, five in the morning
One thing's for sure is, this time of night
Ain't nothing open but legs, shawty
Ain't nothing open but legs, this time of night
Ain't nothing open but legs, shawty
Ain't nothing open but legs, this time of night

What's that, excuse me, look, shawty, who are y'all
Look like that booty fat and I'm on booty call
Don't approach me if you don't wanna do it all
'Fore you know it, have your clothes and your shoes off
In the penthouse, getting turnt out
Curtain closed, candles burning 'til they burnt out
We turned up that bullshit, we ain't concerned 'bout
Dick her down, pull her weave, sweat her perm out
Is you scared, mama? Well, say it then
Is you ready, mama? Okay, then
It's three, four, five in the AM
If you got the game, we'll play then

We showing up, it's going down
She know it's us, I let her know it now
It's three, four, five in the morning
One thing's for sure is, this time of night
Ain't nothing open but legs, shawty
Ain't nothing open but legs, this time of night
Ain't nothing open but legs, shawty
Ain't nothing open but legs, this time of night

Ay, you ever kicked it with a superstar?
I'll pick you up in a half a million dollar car
Lay it up in the five-star
Butt-naked, got you bent over the mini bar
Yeah, cause I do it, baby, exactly how you thought it go
Call me Mr. Paper Man or call me Mr. Lotta Dough
A lotta dough, you ain't gotta worry
I can take my fucking time or I can do it in a hurry
I'm a freak, and you know it
Put a candle between your ass and I'll blow it
I'm talking Cool Whip, apple pie, chocolate cake, or ice cream
Spread across your inner thigh, right up to your nahmean

We showing up, it's going down
She know it's us, I let her know it now
It's three, four, five in the morning
One thing's for sure is, this time of night
Ain't nothing open but legs, shawty
Ain't nothing open but legs, this time of night
Ain't nothing open but legs, shawty
Ain't nothing open but legs, this time of night



Credits
Writer(s): Lamar Edwards, Clifford Harris, Cornell Haynes
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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