Bowtie OutKast (Ft. Jazze Pha & Sleepy Brown)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Bowtie" by OutKast (Ft. Jazze Pha & Sleepy Brown). Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Intro: Sleepy Brown & Big Boi]
Girl, you cut up (Lucius Left Foot, hahaha, ow)
Girl, you know you cut up (You see me in my bowtie, don't ya?)
[Chorus: Sleepy Brown & Jazze Pha]
Crocodile on my feet
Fox fur on my back
Bowtie 'round my neck
That's why they call me the gangsta mack
In the Cadillac, yeah
Crocodile on my feet
Fox fur on my back
Bowtie 'round my neck
That's why they call me the gangsta mack
In the Cadillac, yeah
[Verse 1: Big Boi]
Nasty Noompsy Knightingale, fresh in that tuxedo
Cummerbund with no suspenders, my torpedo, you libido
Need to chat (Chip-chop it up, shoot the breeze)
I'm your R-O-L-A-I-D-S, release the squeeze
Or release the keys to the shackles on her wrist
She can tackle some of this, smack on, smack on some of this
Dick Tracy, arrest her, book her, fingerprint your hooker
You took her to the club and now her body's full of liquor
Off that Butterscotch Schnapps and Bailey's Irish Cream
She's a damsel in distress impressed with stylish things
Whatcha mean? (Chip, chop it up, shoot the breeze)
In the parking lot we primp, crooked booty to the scene, wearing
Girl, you cut up (Lucius Left Foot, hahaha, ow)
Girl, you know you cut up (You see me in my bowtie, don't ya?)
[Chorus: Sleepy Brown & Jazze Pha]
Crocodile on my feet
Fox fur on my back
Bowtie 'round my neck
That's why they call me the gangsta mack
In the Cadillac, yeah
Crocodile on my feet
Fox fur on my back
Bowtie 'round my neck
That's why they call me the gangsta mack
In the Cadillac, yeah
[Verse 1: Big Boi]
Nasty Noompsy Knightingale, fresh in that tuxedo
Cummerbund with no suspenders, my torpedo, you libido
Need to chat (Chip-chop it up, shoot the breeze)
I'm your R-O-L-A-I-D-S, release the squeeze
Or release the keys to the shackles on her wrist
She can tackle some of this, smack on, smack on some of this
Dick Tracy, arrest her, book her, fingerprint your hooker
You took her to the club and now her body's full of liquor
Off that Butterscotch Schnapps and Bailey's Irish Cream
She's a damsel in distress impressed with stylish things
Whatcha mean? (Chip, chop it up, shoot the breeze)
In the parking lot we primp, crooked booty to the scene, wearing
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