Moderately slow

BOWTIEWords and Music by ANTWAN PATTON,

PATRICK BROWN and PHALON ALEXANDER

Copyright © 2004 Chrysalis Music and Gnat Booty MusicAll Rights Administered by Chrysalis MusicAll Rights Reserved Used by Permission

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Girl, you cut

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up. Girl, you know you

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cut up.

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Croc o- dile- on my feet, fox fur on my back,

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bow tie- ’round my neck. That’s why they call me the gang sta- mack in the Cad il- lac.-

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Croc o- dile- on my feet,

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fox fur on my back, bow tie- ’round my neck. That’s why they

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CoT oda

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call me the gang sta- mack in the Cad il- lac.- Rap 1: (See rap lyrics)

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(Chip chop it up, shoot the breeze.)

Play 3 times

D.S. al Coda

CODA

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(Chip chop it up, shoot the breeze.) Rap ends Rap 2: (See rap lyrics)

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Play 3 times

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(3.): Rap ends

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As we strut, skip the line. Through the glass win dow- glance; we look fine. Right on time.

!As we step in the place, the nurs ’ry’s- crunk. We’ve come to play. Ooh,

Sleepy:ev -

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’ry- bod- y’s- watch in’- ’cause them furs just hit the door. While the ga -

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tor’- creep in’,- crawl in’- oh so wick ed- a cross- that floor to the V.

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I. P., where we pro ceed- to give you what you need, throw your hands

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up if you feel it; throw your hands up if you feel it. Fash ion-

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well

2fr

de signed,- (Bow tie.)- buy the fin est- wines. (Bow tie.)- Feel good

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!

2fr

to be fly, (Bow tie.)- so don’t you ask me why. (Bow tie.)- I got the

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la

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dies- in line (Bow tie.)- be cause- they can’t de ny,- (Bow tie.)- so raise your

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glass

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to the sky(Bow tie.),-

’cause we su per- fly, ’cause we(Bow

sutie.)per

-- fly.

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Croc o- dile- on my feet, fox fur on my back,

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bow tie- ’round my neck. That’s why they call me the gang sta- mack in the Cad il- lac.-

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!

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Croc o- dile- on my feet, fox fur on my back,

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bow tie- ’round my neck. That’s why they call me the gang sta- mack in the Cad il- lac.-

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Got my mind on busi ness;- don’t jive with me, jive with me.

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Got my mind on busi ness;- don’t jive with me, jive with me, suck er.-

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!Repeat and Fade

Optional Ending

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Rap 2:

Rap 1: Nasty Noompsy Knightingale, fresh in that tuxedo.Cumberbund with no suspenders, my torpedo, your libido.Need to chat.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.What you mean?In the parking lot we primp, crooked booty to the scene, where it’s . . .

Lord. How can it be so hardTo put on a pair of panties, much less a pair of jeans and leotards?I gotta start by complimenting you on your physique.You’re unique. You best believe I’m gon’ skeet once I speak.

Spoke, spit, spatter, spat, and I macked her just like that.But it takes years of perseverance and experience to get the cat.So why don’t I chase this Hennessy down with some of that.On your back like a cheerleader missing the final stack.

Rap Lyrics

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