3am, my phone starts to ring Make no mistake it's just a sexual thing You keep telling me I'm the only one but you'll go back to him, when the night is
Jesse was raised in the Hollywood Hills Living the perfect life Jesse was told what to think, what to wear What she could and could not buy Her parents
Oh yeah Rock it baby My pretty girl, you move so sexy in your skin Spread your wings for me, let my love come in My sexy girl, all the world's your stage
Runnin' I-I-I, can't answer, [Incomprehensible] [Incomprehensible] It's me I'm customized I'm customized I'm customized I'm customized I'm customized
At the top where the criminal minds meet That's where the cream is (right) , that's where your dream is (well ain't it?) Hook: You're only a customer
Saint Teresa the Sacred parted us in 1783 Her body was found incorrupt with no sign of decay Saint Frances Xavier got dug up in 1975 All the priests were
nines on the cover of New York Times Tattoos down our spine with the the picture of a dime Cuttin' niggaz short like inmates for phone time Everything I get is custom
's on sale? I'm a customer I'm a customer I'm a customer I'm a customer I love you Customer I'm a customer I'm a customer I'm a customer I'm in love
On my face I scratched out something like a silhouette around the golden ten like lambs, on my face I've hidden away any embarrassment, away from my
Chorus: Who are you? oh, whats your destination? will you come around? oh, will you come around? Who are you? oh, whats your expectation? will you come
jerk But let me tell you 'bout how these things work See, I am the customer And the customer is always right She's right I am the customer And the customer
feelings that surround me Spit on my outstretched hand Tears dry out on the bothered sky You grab my heart then you let it cry My speech of custom gold
the side Just ask for what you want cause you're the one, you're the costumer [Verse 2: Trey Songz] Customer customer customer Songz Let me tell you
On my face I scratched out something like a silhouette around the golden ten like lambs on my face I've hidden away any embarrassment, away from my
nines on the cover of New York Times Tattoos down our spine with the the picture of a dime Cuttin niggaz short like inmates for phone time Everything I get is -- custom
[Lyrical Magick: Proscriptor, Voices: Proscriptor, Bass: Shaftiel] [Proemial Of Spell] Two spheres are calling me to the "grounds" where I use to plead
'll never know the feeling until you spent your life in line, Only one to your customer, and this time, I got mine. [musical interlude] Only one to a customer
heaven above I gotta say, Lord, I gotta say She's custom made!! She's custom made! Yeah Custom made for me to love Ooo, custom made, yeah For me to love, yeah Custom