I'm gettin' tired of your shit
You don't never buy me nothin'
See every time you come around
You gotta bring Jim, James, Paul, and Tyrone
See why can't we be by ourselves, sometimes
See I've been having this on my mind for a long time
I just want it to be you and me
Like it used to be, baby
But ya don't know how to act
So matter of fact

I think ya better call Tyrone (call him)
And tell him come on, help you get your shit
(Come on, come on, come on)
You need to call Tyrone (call him)
And tell him I said come on

Now every time I ask you for a little cash
You say naw, but turn right around and ask me for some ass
Oh, whoa well hold up, listen partner I ain't no cheap thrill
Cause Miss Badu is always comin' for real and you know the deal, nigga!
Every time we go somewhere I gotta reach down in my purse
To pay your way and your homeboys' way and sometimes your cousin's way
They don't never have to pay, don't have no cars
Hang around in bars try to hang around with stars
Like Badu Imma tell you the truth
Show and prove or get the boot

I think ya better (call him)
And tell him come on, help you get your shit
(Come on, come on, come on)
You need to call Tyrone (call him)
Hold on
But you can't use my phone