Down South - Iggy Azalea

I’m going, going, going, going, going Down South

I’m going, going, going, going, going kiss that mouth

Kiss that muah muah muah

Went down the kiss…

This pink pussy got no lipstick…

More like lip gloss when it’s sticky

Ain’t no bitch bossin' like Iggy

I’m gettin' head with my shades on

He head over heels, he wake on

Got his face lookin' all painted on

When he done gettin' his taste on

But aint no returnin' this favor

When you get done put your name on this waver

Makin a statement bout how you ate this

Fittin’a put it and finna?

I’m givin' it to you no chaser

But this (meow) be wet on the rocks

Iggy do fades, and braids it really don’t matter

This pussy gon' drip on them locks

That Hello Kitty;

no pencil pouch

This pussy neat like it’s stenciled out

I got his tongue shinin', call him Mr. Clean

It’s like Listerine when he rinse it out

I got his girls callin' on missions now

When they say they mad 'cause they missin' out

But I’m very fine and his face is clogged

And he say he love it when he kissin' now

Jumpin' out the dam like a motherfuckin' laker hoe

Do me one favor, don’t do me no favors

And I get 380 every time he 360s

Got my old dude calling, go my new dude with me

Startin' in the A then he lead me the Bay

Pit stop in Texas?

Ask him «baby, how it taste, I bet it taste good'

Pullin' out in slauson;

I better taste hood

Got me like «yeah, I’m Gucci, Ferragamo, and Louis»

No department stores I’m in boutiques

If it ain’t high class it don’t suit me

Got that bubblicious;

that chewy

Make your man act like a groupie

You like fruit then imagine I’m smoothie

Pussy Monster;

give me that tunechi

Said he want a blow fish, I’m hoodie

Follow my legs to my booty

Self sufficient I do me

Broke hoes think I’m boujee

Moody… who me?

Why man?

I’m rudie

So I drop the top on my two seat

While he roll his tongue on my tootsie