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Ghetto Baby

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You got a face like the Madonna, crying tears of gold

P-pumping gas at the Texaco, road to road

You're on the run, whoa baby

Yeah, you're on the run, whoa baby

I'm not a trick boy, I'm a trick for you

You give me butterflies, heart skipping one, two

I know you're sick boy, I wanna get the flu

I'm running temperatures thinking of your love, boo

 

Brooklyn, move my soul like this

Kissing my stilettos, move your mouth up to my lips

Come on over, ghetto baby

(He said, "Show me what you got, girl")

Come on over, ghetto baby

("Drop it like it's hot, girl")

 

I know your lips say that you wanna

But your heart says no

But boy your hips say that you're gonna

When you hold me hold me, you're so fun

B-baby, you are too much fun, b-baby

 

My local rockstar, the Willie B. crew

I feeling you boy, you're liking me too

I'm clockin' chicks left and right just to get to you

You're out there on the grind

Now come home to your queen, boo

 

Brooklyn, move my soul like this

Kissing my stilettos, move your mouth up to my lips

Come on over, ghetto baby

(He said, "Show me what you got, girl")

Come on over, ghetto baby

("Drop it like it's hot, girl")

(x2)

 

We're a match made in Heaven

If they're gonna talk, let 'em

If they don't think we're good together

Baby, just forget 'em

When he's bad, he's bad

But when he's good no one's better

'Cause we're match made in heaven

And this kind of love's forever

 

Brooklyn, move my soul like this

Kissing my stilettos, move your mouth up to my lips

Come on over, ghetto baby

(He said, "Show me what you got, girl")

Come on over, ghetto baby

("Drop it like it's hot, girl")

(x2)

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Cheryl's Version

 

 

You got a face like the Madonna

crying tears of gold

Been pumping gas

at the Texaco road to road

You’re on the run

Oh baby yeah you’re on the run

Oh baby

I’m not a trick boy, I’m a trick for you

You give me butterflies

heart skipping one two

I know you’re sick boy,

I wanna get the flu

I’m running temperatures

thinking of your love, boo.

 

Brooklyn move my soul like this

Kissing my stilettos move

your mouth up to my lips

Come on over ghetto baby

(He said show me what you got girl)

Come on over ghetto baby

(Drop it like it’s hot girl)

 

I know your lips say

that you wanna but your heart’s a no

But boy your hips say that your gonna when you hold me

hold me

You’re so fun

B-baby you are so much fun

B-baby

My local rock star, The really big crew

I’m feeling you boy, You’re liking me too

I’m clocking chicks left and right

just to get to you

You’re out there on the grind now come home to your

queen, boo.

 

Brooklyn move my soul like this

Kissing my stilettos

move your mouth up to my lips

Come on over ghetto baby

(He said show me what you got girl)

Come on over ghetto baby

(Drop it like it’s hot girl)

Brooklyn move my soul like this

Kissing my stilettos

move your mouth up to my lips

Come on over ghetto baby

(He said show me what you got girl)

Come on over ghetto baby

(Drop it like it’s hot girl)

 

We’re a match mad in heaven

if they’re gonna talk let ‘em

If they don’t think we’re good together

baby just forget ‘em

When he’s bad he’s bad

but when he’s good no one’s better

Cos we’re a match made in heaven

and this kind of love’s forever

 

Brooklyn move my soul like this

Kissing my stilettos

move your mouth up to my lips

Come on over ghetto baby

(He said show me what you got girl)

Come on over ghetto baby

(Drop it like it’s hot girl)

 

Brooklyn move my soul like this

Kissing my stilettos

move your mouth up to my lips

Come on over ghetto baby

(He said show me what you got girl)

Come on over ghetto baby

(Drop it like it’s hot girl)

 

Changed Lyrics

 

Taken from the booklet so they are the real deal


tumblr_nqgjv3rg7p1si48w3o1_540.gif

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I do like it, but I don't think it's a great song. Lana has much better ones! 

I do prefer Lana's version over Cheryl's though.


----      ---Harvey's in the sky with diamonds and he's making me crazy. All he wants to do is party with his pretty baby

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I never cared for it. I know that some of Lanas songs may not be the most impressive lyrically, but this song is just completely braindead. And the song does not fit Cheryl either, concerning the American references. 

 

And the lyrics again... oh, they are so Lana.

 

I’m not a trick boy, I’m a trick for you
You give me butterflies
heart skipping one two
I know you’re sick boy,
I wanna get the flu
I’m running temperatures
thinking of your love, boo.

 

it's just awkward, that's all  :bye:


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