Ayo, Butch', it's hotter than fish grease outside, my boy
That means it's sundress and sandal season
But some of these shorties is nastier than jail food
You know the hoes I'm talkin' 'bout
The ones that be flyin' to Miami on Spirit with a buddy pass
And they be five-deep palled up in one room at a La Quinta Inn
Them hoes don't be havin' nothin'
Except for an ID and iPhone charger
But they done been to every brunch from Buffalo to Beverly Hills
All summer, makin' sure they get a flick in front of that grass wall
Every ninety-degree night has shorty in the club
Lace front smellin' like hookah, smokin' Newports
And had it in so long, it's startin' to look like a Tyler Perry wig
That's nasty work
She done came to the club with nothin' but fifteen bucks
And the tags still in that Fashion Nova fit
Hopin' them Griselda niggas pull her into their section
So she can take a boomerang on Benny to make her baby dad mad
Look we still got six weeks 'til fall
And Mr. Pyrex Man done told y'all already, everybody can't go
But don't worry, 'cause Summertime Butch' is comin', nigga
