Give Her The Keys Lyrics - The Ball Street Journal - E-40

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah 

Yeah, man 

It's magic, E40 and my partna T-Pain 

(Nappy Boy) 

Open up that garage, it's a big fat car 

With a big fat bow on top 

It's a Bentley Coupe with the roof let back 

Now, shawty, you know that's hot 

I'mma give her the keys 

And I'mma give her the keys 

Now shawty sang it to me 

And I'mma give her the keys 

From a bucket to a Benz 

A Benz to a Bentley 

Down with me from the start 

Got my back like a tank top 

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When I used to be on the block 

She hide my rocks in her yacht 

Got a special place in my heart 

She knows how to play her part 

Every time I look at you, darling 

I get a hard on 

You sexy without your make up on 

I wanna bone 

Move you out the hood 

I told you I would, I'm not phony 

We both from the same place 

Grew up on fried bologna 

They say the opposites attract 

But we gotta a lot in common 

Behind every boss player, a boss woman 

I'mma fiend when it come to our cooking 

Photos 

You do your thang 

Throw down like Paula Dean 

Neck bones and collard greens 

Open up that garage, it's a big fat car 

With a big fat bow on top 

It's a Bentley Coupe with the roof let back 

Now, shawty, you know that's hot 

I'mma give her the keys 

And I'mma give her the keys 

Now shawty sang it to me 

And I'mma give her the keys 

Born in the mud, raised in the trap 

Down ass broad, never been a sap 

If I ever need bail, went to jail and got popped 

You'll be Johnny on the spot, you'll come and get me out 

A loyalist, not just a friend to me 

We was meant to be, we got chemistry 

You like it when I lay this pipe 

Been around each other so long 

They say we starting to look alike 

Starting to think alike, getting our money right 

Fuss, fight, then make love all night 

California king on a California queen 

My California dream, we make a good team 

Open up that garage, it's a big fat car 

With a big fat bow on top 

It's a Bentley Coupe with the roof let back 

Now, shawty, you know that's hot 

I'mma give her the keys 

And I'mma give her the keys 

Now shawty sang it to me 

And I'mma give her the keys 

It's the little things that count 

Any means much 

Can't nothing come between us 

Can't nothing separate us 

You're my backbone 

You my rib, you my chick 

You my backbone 

You my rib, you my chick 

It's the little things that count 

Any means much 

Can't nothing come between us 

Cant nothing separate us 

You my backbone 

You my rib, you my chick 

You my backbone 

You my rib, you my chick 

Yeah, man, it's a drought on loyal females, man 

The good ones is hard to find man 

So when you find a good one, man 

Hold on to that broad, man, you hear me? 

Open up that garage, it's a big fat car 

With a big fat bow on top 

It's a Bentley Coupe with the roof let back 

Now, shawty, you know that's hot 

I'mma give her the keys 

And I'mma give her the keys 

Now shawty sang it to me 

And I'mma give her the keys