Everybody wants the hero
Who just wants the man?
Who fights with his devils
And does the best he can
Everybody wants a playa
I just want to be friends

Every
Everybody wants a superstar
Who got cars and ice
Walks into the ghetto get pussy bar
Makes all the girls look think twice
Yeah sista he got money and thangs
But is he nice for you

He's a High Post Brotha
With money in his pocket
He got every-thing a girl could want
Think maybe he don't
High Post Brotha
Wit money in his pocket
He got everything a girl could want
I think maybe he don't

Some sistas want tha balla
But mentally can he really play ball
Dumbfounded by out the ghetto conversations
His mentality's oh so so small
Get the cream
Get the hoes
Get the cars
He wants to go far
But how far is too far

[Com'mon]
Come here love (chickka) love
Let me holla at you
Cause what you got
Is worth more than a dollar or two
Soil another nigga's game
Usually I wouldn't do
But you my girl
And I can tell that its bothering you
This motherahh must think that he a father to you
You got vision but boys blockin the view
I know he payin yo tuition
Payin to get the car fixin
He got Juice or is he Pulp Fiction
Heard he be strip clubs
Flippin duhs like he got big buhs
Is it his image
Or him that you in love with
You on some shit but you was never superficial

When rent's due is trip what a chick do
You don't like his mind
The way he looks
And you said that his breath stinks
But all of that added up
Doesn't equal a fresh mink
Let's think who you are
You the

Writer : LONNIE RASHID LYNN, JILL H. SCOTT, IVAN BARIAS, DALE OSSMAN WARREN
Copyright : Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group