[HOOK] That’s my babe, yeah that’s my sweetie, We pull up cleanly, Flanked by sweetie. I told her “run it,” she said “easily,” We robbin’ the deli, we drippin’ tzatziki. She cute with the blade, I’m flirty and freaky, She pour up the sauce while I snatch the panini. We flee in a Civic that smell like tahini. That’s my babe, yeah that’s my sweetie. ⸻ [REFRAIN] Dip too cold, nickname tzatziki. That’s my babe, yeah that’s my sweetie. Dip too cold, nickname tzatziki. That’s my babe, yeah that’s my sweetie. ⸻ [VERSE 1] That’s my sweetie, that’s my knife twin, She astral projects while she pickin’ the lock. I came back to life in a pair of Crocs— She hums in Greek, hexed the cops, Now they cough up frogs. She’s sweet on the surface, but talks to gods. Really? Oh really? I said really, really. My girl is an angel, I am her alien. I’m always on her mind— I shop at the gas station, call it couture. My girl got wings, I bought her the sky. I’m her alien—she don’t even try. Oh really? Your man’s a rerun, mine’s premiere. My angels drink Red Bull—wings appear. Oh really?? OH really?? Matchsticks? Hell yes. I’ve got twenty. I’ve got fuckin’ plenty. I’m kissing on ya girl, We’re making out to Matchbox Twenty. She knows the party makes me nervous In this stage we can't get hurt Tell your man I said— Hey Britney. Hey Britney. Hey Britney. Oh really? Bitch, obviously. ⸻ [REPRISE / CHAOTIC ECHO] I heard ya man is a bitch. (Call him Britney.) OH really?? Matchsticks? Hell yes. I’ve got plenty. That’s a Matchbox… Fuckin’ Twenty. Oh really? OH really? I’m kissing on ya girl, We’re making out to Matchbox Twenty. We're too cool to be alone But, not too crazy to get busted Heyyy Britneyyyy.
