White lines, pretty baby, tattoos
Don't know what they mean
They're special, just for you.
White palms, baking powder on the stove
Cooking up a dream, turning diamonds into snow.
I feel you, pretty baby, feel me
Turn it up hot, loving you is free.
I like it down, like it down way low
But you already know that.
You already know.
Come on down to Florida
I got something for ya.
We could see the kilos or the Keys, baby, oh ya.
Guns in the summertime
Chica, Cherry Cola lime.
Prison isn't nothing to me, if you'll be by my s-
Yayo, yayo, yayo.
And all the dope fiends.
Yayo, yayo, yayo.
Sun in my mouth and gold hoops
You like your little baby like you like your drinks, cool.
White lines, pretty daddy, goes
"Kid, you snort it like a champ, like the winner, winner in."
Come on down to Florida
I got something for ya.
We could see the kilos or the Keys, baby, oh ya.
Guns in the summertime
Chica, Cherry Cola lime.
Prison isn't nothing to me, if you'll be by my s-
Yayo, yayo, yayo.
And all the dope fiends.
Yayo, yayo, yayo.
We could get high in Miami,
(Oooh)
Dance the night away.
People never die in Miami,
(Oooh)
That's what they all say.
(You believe me, don't you baby?)
Come on down to Florida
I got something for ya.
We could see the kilos or the Keys, baby, oh ya.
Guns in the summertime
Chica, Cherry Cola lime.
Prison don't mean nothing to me, if you'll be by my.
Yayo, yayo, yayo.
All the Floridians like
Yayo, yayo, yayo.
All the Colombians like
Yayo, yayo, yayo.
And all my girlfriends
Yayo, yayo, yayo.
That's how we do it, like
Mm-mm, pretty baby.
White lines, pretty baby.
Gold teeth, pretty baby.
Dance the night away.
Writer(s): Elizabeth Grant, Dan Auerbach, Harmony Korrine
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com