Correction Lyrics Ride the Wave by Cam'ron

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Lyrics

This God's work, baby, cut it out, man (Good lovin' daddy, ooh)
You know I'm all about principle and you actin' too cool for school, nigga (Let me be your rockin' chair)
Psh, lemme talk to 'em (Just rock me away from here, yeah), Killa

She way more comfortable with the felons (Yeah, she is)
Stuck it in, soon after, she started yellin'
Put my dick between her melons (Melons)
Asked if we could sixty-nine (Hmm), yeah, but no tellin'
I mean, baby girl best one and a rump-shaker
I'm a special ed garbage can, I get dumb paper (Paper)
Former Von Zip club-attender (Yeah, yeah)
Oh, what's that? Just paper on defender
She fine, though, thinkin' 'bout makin' her remember
Out of sight, out of mind, but my 'Gram make her remember
How we made it through the winter and we laid up to December
That we made a true agenda, my dick played in her placenta
Young, slender, she will wake up in a splendor
Had her shakin' like a blender, handcuffs make her surrender (Sure did)
Not locked up, but we gone 'til November
I ain't drippin', I'm drenched, say hey to the inventor

Yeah, baby, grab the Birkin (Birkin)
Told her man, "This ain't workin'"
Came to my house, started twerkin' (Wait)
Opened my pants and went surfin'
Yeah, yeah, she told me ride the wave (Wave, wave)
Now I'm tryna ride the wave (Wave, wave)
Yeah, I'ma ride the wave (Wave, wave)
She said, "Can I stay? I'll behave"
Face to face in person (Person)
She told her man, "This ain't workin'" (Cold)
Came to my house, started twerkin'
Went inside, she started squirtin'
Yeah, she told me "Ride the wave" (Wave, wave)
I'm tryna ride the wave (Wave, wave)
Yeah, I'ma ride the wave (Wave, wave)
She said, "Can I stay? I'll behave"

I stay clean, clean as chlorine get (That's clean)
She dressed up, got that morphine drip
So I gave her G. Dep, you know, special delivery (Yup)
Pussy was sufferin', so I put it out its misery
I'm diggin' her, she diggin' it, she said, "Is you kiddin' me?"
But when I hit the bottom, she said, "Nigga, is you shittin' me?
Chill, you almost got me shittin', Flee"
You fuckin' with the A-Team now, girl, I'm Mr. T
Jeans from Italy, niggas, they can't do diddly (Pun intended)
Y'all little league and now you can't sit with me
All my children, your swag, got it right here
Don't care if you thirty, nigga, get up in the highchair
Get up in that car seat, suck that Juicy Juice drink-drink
Say your prayers, and before you go to bed, remember, think pink (Think pink)
I'm still gettin' minks, links
Checks, girl, what's next? Tell 'em what you think

Shelter me from all hurt and pain
Light my heart with your everlasting flame
Ooh, mhm, sexy ba—

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