Cover art for S.O.S. by Ray Dawn
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S.O.S. Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Back up on my pimpin’ got baby girl smitten
Baby girl listen, I know you got a man
Girl here’s the plan listen
Let’s get missin’ we can dip this instant
Get so distant they’ll be persistent to file us both missin’
Let you buy me dinner can I put the tip in
If this ain’t pimipin’ girl tell me what is
I’m mackin’ on a man’s wiz while he takes a wiz girl you know that
I’m the shiz

[Hook]
Ya man’s never on ya mind
Girl I’m seein’ all the signs how’s somethin’ on the side
Juss somethin’ on the side
Ma hit me on the celly whenever you wanna ride
Ya man never give you time
For the future keep in mind it’s juss somethin’ on the side
Juss somethin’ on the side
Ma hit me on the celly whenever you swingin’ by

[Verse 2]
Morning phone call baby girl wanna ball
Last night they had a fight and all night she balled
So I meet her at the mall and I front the ice cream
Watch her try on some Vicki thongs and True Religion jeans
Shit is never what it seems
All the cream for that ring don’t mean a damn thing
Cause you gotta keep her happy and you gotta make her laugh
You gotta have some patience and you gotta wax that ass
You the type a dude prolly got three moves
And got the nerve to wonder why her box is stingy wit the juice
Girl I keep the box flooded overfilled fish tanks
You can bet on it, big bank take ‘lil bank
Lemme pull rank, not for now he can have ya
Or so he thinks, let him baby sip his Fanta
Costanza coachin’ yo the coach can’t stand ya
Drool on my bamboo ya girl a glad panda
[Hook]

[Verse 3]
You’re so cool girl I might juss wanna date ya
Maybe let you sleep over maybe let you meet the neighbors
Maybe open up the stables let them bottom fillies out
Let you see what I’m about and let you take the city route
Show you where I grew up, the same place I blew up
And I live like so what, cheifin’ never sober
I’m leavin’ on my own girl you comin’ wit me
She is no Frisbee I can’t toss her back
Whenever she is wit me I’ma need her on my lap
Countin’ three to four snacks in-between feedin’ snacks
So a nigga can relax…sit back
And reflect on some shit smoke piff and sip yak
Gotta get this money, a known fact
Money get the honey…know fact
Never leave ya honey…known fact
Come wit me honey and ya no goin’ back, fact

[Hook]

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