BREADSTICK BADDIE

🅉ë🅁ō🅁ë🅉

ZeroreZ

🅉ë🅁ō🅁ë🅉

basshouse, dubstep, grimey electronic/EDM

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(Verse 1)
Walked in the spot, fresh white tee on my chest
Gold chain swinging like I own the whole West
Saw her in the booth, looking nothing but her best
Brain and body, double major in finesse
Absolute baddie, ten out of ten, no debate
Making every other playa in the restaurant hate
She reading the menu like she solving a case
Eyes sharp, but they soften when they land on my face
I slid into the seat, gave her that gangsta nod
She looked like an angel, swear she sent from God
But I kept it real heavy, told the waiter my plans
"Bring the spaghetti and the meatballs, as big as my hands"
"Keep the breadsticks coming, we gon’ test your supply,
If they ever start to run out, tell your boss I’m outside."
She laughed at my swagger, said she likes 'em robust
I said, "Baby, in this marinara sauce we trust"
"Mix a little intellect with that beautiful glow,
You bring the conversation, I’ll bring the G-funk flow."
Red wine in the glass, but I'm sipping it slow
Playing chess with my words while the violins flow
Got that G-funk bouncing on the patio,
And I ain’t in a rush, I let the tension grow.

(Chorus)
She an absolute baddie with the parmesan cheese
Vocabulary vicious, got me saying "more please"
Got me weak in the knees, begging "extra sauce please"
She correcting my Italian while I’m running these G’s
Yeah, we locking our eyes over plates of spaghetti
Trading theories on love while the noodles stay ready
My heart beating fast and my palms getting sweaty
But my voice staying smooth, heavy game, real steady
Two meatballs, one love, in a gangsta romance
Under-table leg touch, that’s a silent advance
Slurping up the noodles, baby, give me a chance.
I can read between the lines and the wine in your glass.

(Verse 2)
Now the plates hit the table, steaming hot, looking right
But eating long noodles is a dangerous fight
I’m trying to look smooth, twirling up the fork
But the sauce splashing out every time that I talk
Got a red little dot on my fresh white shirt
But she giggled at the stain, so it didn’t even hurt
I said, "See, I’m a masterpiece, this is custom couture,
That’s not a stain, that’s an autograph from the sauce connoisseur."
She a queen, eating neat, not a drop on her dress
While I'm looking like a mobster making a mess
But I own it, wiped it slow, never breaking my stare,
Told her, "Baby, real bosses never worry ‘bout wear and tear."
Then we grabbed the same noodle, Lady and the Tramp style
Met her right in the middle, and she gave me a smile
Bit the meatball in half, shared the beef and the pork
Whispered, "Save some room, we ain’t close to the fork."
I don't even need a knife, I don't even need a fork.
I just carve my name in her mind when we talk this talk.

(Bridge)
Told her, "You the type to turn a quick bite to a thesis,
Arguing 'bout art while we splitting all these pieces."
She said, "ZERO, you a trip, but your logic on point,
You the only one I’d trust to season up my joint."
I said, "Say less, baby, I’m a gentleman crook,
Steal a kiss from your lips while you reading the cookbook."
She lick a lil’ sauce off the side of her lip,
Now I’m plotting like a boss, that’s a power move sip.

(Outro)
Yeah. ZERO.
True romance is giving her the biggest meatball.
And guarding every breadstick like a made man’s vault.
That’s gangsta love right there, but it’s brainy too,
We discussin’ philosophy between bite number two.
Pass the napkin, baby. I got sauce on my chain.
You got sauce in your smile, got me losing my game.
We out.

3824/7500

(Intro) Yeah... you already know its ZERO West Coast playa, but tonight we dining Italian. Candlelight. Checkered tablecloth. Unlimited garlic bread. Don Peri’ in the bucket, reservation on the list, Host kissing up, ‘cause the don just walked in this. Don’t touch my breadsticks. Unless you tryna find out how possessive I get. Let’s go. (Verse 1) Walked in the spot, fresh white tee on my chest Gold chain swinging like I own the whole West Saw her in the booth, looking nothing but her best Brain and body, double major in finesse Absolute baddie, ten out of ten, no debate Making every other playa in the restaurant hate She reading the menu like she solving a case Eyes sharp, but they soften when they land on my face I slid into the seat, gave her that gangsta nod She looked like an angel, swear she sent from God But I kept it real heavy, told the waiter my plans "Bring the spaghetti and the meatballs, as big as my hands" "Keep the breadsticks coming, we gon’ test your supply, If they ever start to run out, tell your boss I’m outside." She laughed at my swagger, said she likes 'em robust I said, "Baby, in this marinara sauce we trust" "Mix a little intellect with that beautiful glow, You bring the conversation, I’ll bring the G-funk flow." Red wine in the glass, but I'm sipping it slow Playing chess with my words while the violins flow Got that G-funk bouncing on the patio, And I ain’t in a rush, I let the tension grow. (Chorus) She an absolute baddie with the parmesan cheese Vocabulary vicious, got me saying "more please" Got me weak in the knees, begging "extra sauce please" She correcting my Italian while I’m running these G’s Yeah, we locking our eyes over plates of spaghetti Trading theories on love while the noodles stay ready My heart beating fast and my palms getting sweaty But my voice staying smooth, heavy game, real steady Two meatballs, one love, in a gangsta romance Under-table leg touch, that’s a silent advance Slurping up the noodles, baby, give me a chance. I can read between the lines and the wine in your glass. (Verse 2) Now the plates hit the table, steaming hot, looking right But eating long noodles is a dangerous fight I’m trying to look smooth, twirling up the fork But the sauce splashing out every time that I talk Got a red little dot on my fresh white shirt But she giggled at the stain, so it didn’t even hurt I said, "See, I’m a masterpiece, this is custom couture, That’s not a stain, that’s an autograph from the sauce connoisseur." She a queen, eating neat, not a drop on her dress While I'm looking like a mobster making a mess But I own it, wiped it slow, never breaking my stare, Told her, "Baby, real bosses never worry ‘bout wear and tear." Then we grabbed the same noodle, Lady and the Tramp style Met her right in the middle, and she gave me a smile Bit the meatball in half, shared the beef and the pork Whispered, "Save some room, we ain’t close to the fork." I don't even need a knife, I don't even need a fork. I just carve my name in her mind when we talk this talk. (Bridge) Told her, "You the type to turn a quick bite to a thesis, Arguing 'bout art while we splitting all these pieces." She said, "ZERO, you a trip, but your logic on point, You the only one I’d trust to season up my joint." I said, "Say less, baby, I’m a gentleman crook, Steal a kiss from your lips while you reading the cookbook." She lick a lil’ sauce off the side of her lip, Now I’m plotting like a boss, that’s a power move sip. (Outro) Yeah. ZERO. True romance is giving her the biggest meatball. And guarding every breadstick like a made man’s vault. That’s gangsta love right there, but it’s brainy too, We discussin’ philosophy between bite number two. Pass the napkin, baby. I got sauce on my chain. You got sauce in your smile, got me losing my game. We out.

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