White lines, pretty baby, tattoos
Don't know what they mean, they're special, just for you
White lines, baking powder on the stove
Cooking up a dream, turning diamonds into snow

I feel you, pretty baby, feel me
Turn it up hot, loving you is free
I like it down, like it down way low
But you already know that, you already know

Come on down to Florida
I got something for ya
We could see the kilos or the Keys, baby, oh yeah
Guns in the summertime
Chic-a-Cherry Cola lime
Prison isn't nothing to me if you'll be by my side

Yayo, yayo, yayo
And all the dope fiends
Yayo, yayo, yayo

We could get high in Miami, ooh, ooh
Dance the night away
People never die in Miami, ooh, ooh
That's what they all say yay
(You believe me, don't you baby?)
Come on down to Florida
I got something for ya
We could see the kilos or the Keys, baby, oh yeah
Guns in the summertime
Chic-a-Cherry Cola lime
Prison don't mean nothing to me if you'll be by my side

Yayo, yayo, yayo
All the Floridians like
Yayo, yayo, yayo
All the Colombians like
Yayo, yayo, yayo
And all my girlfriends
Yayo, yayo, yayo

That's how we do it, like
Mm-mm, pretty baby
White lines, pretty baby
Gold teeth, pretty baby
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Dance the night away