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letra de rude gyal undressed - naila keleta-mae and jason promesse

[part 1]
for 18 years i lived my lived virtually unscathed
surrounded by this haze, locked in a daze, amazed
from conception, like a puppet string attached, i played my part
fulfilled my role in this script called life where i was force fed ‘plan a’
daddy’s girl
told not to give ‘it’ up, let off, or have my cherry busted by a nut
out to devour my underdeveloped hips or feel up my training bra tits
‘nuff said. so, i was led to believe that closed legs was my virtue
but coy looks and flirting lids could never hurt you
the message was clear
‘bust your ass to look fly
never look a man directly in the eye
then steups your t–th when he says ‘psssst’ as you walk by
then give him your number same way

[part 2]
anyway, unimpressed i moved to ‘plan b’
i figured f-ck it
n-ggas out there havin’ fun, gettin’ laid
girls gettin’ paid with the brinks intact
yeah, my reputation was clean
but virtue wasn’t putting phat gear on this girl’s back
and that’s fact
next fact
my mother didn’t raise a fool
and pristine and prude definitely wasn’t cool
those girls my granny called ‘trifling, loose, and confused.’
had all the fine brothas knockin’ on their doors in twos
i saw roots men, hip-hop boys, and those conscious brothas too
trippin’ up, backing rachets, ready to fight over for some ass
and it was those girls my granny said had no class?
and so i had ‘it’
and so i had ‘it’ and so i flaunted ‘it’
and what i didn’t have? well i stuffed ‘it’
i walked batty c-cked high enough to get attention
and a ‘hey daughta’ special mention from any man
and though their master plan was to hit the skins
my mission, my mission was to hit
between those two crisp sheets
of leather wallet fabric
it takes cold hard cash to support my crazy acrylic nail habits
[part 3]
needless to say, eventually plan b wore thin
and i graduated from the no knowledge college
with a degree in fine arts
the art of looking fine
doing the slow whine
feeding the s-xy line to any man with money in my reach
‘plan c’ saw me dealing with the big time boys
no noise
just subtle movements late at night
bringin’ in ‘nuff cash the next day
no pst
no gst
a little tlc
a dash of boo-oo-ty
and i was drivin’ in his gmc the next day
much to my mother’s dismay

[part 4]
and yah, some talk, some whisper
shake their heads with a frown
some call me b-tch, call me hoe
say i’m skeezing around
but so life go. and i ain’t ashamed to say
that my two slip-ups left me with a mouth to feed
and one on the way, but hey
this is my life. and until you could back your moral talk with money in this pocket
imma continue to postpone plan a and lead this ya life same way

- naila keleta mae and jason promesse

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