He’s Addicted

Verse 1

The way he says my name… yeah, that puts me in my zone.

The way his fingers slide so deep into my hair—

on my knees, right where I belong.

He stares straight into my eyes, slow and heavy,

’cause this view right here is his favorite already.

Bridge

I feel the pressure rising, feel that pulse between his thighs,

And I know the moment’s coming ’cause he tells me it’s all mine.

That low, breathy moan right before he crosses that line—

He tries to hold back,

but his body never listens in time.

Chorus

He’s addicted to the way I talk to his “microphone,”

My forehead tapping on his stomach like a metronome.

We be talking with no words,

Just that language only we know.

Yeah… he’s addicted—

addicted to the sound of me talking to his “microphone.”

Verse 2

Every time I lift my eyes, I see him barely holding on,

Like he’s praying I don’t take this love and ever be gone.

He grips my hair tighter, claiming every inch of this space—

Baby, go on… and put me in my place.

His chest rising fast, losing rhythm, losing control,

Imma give this everything, I’m coming for his soul.

Bridge

I feel the pressure rising, feel that pulse between his thighs,

And I know the moment’s coming ’cause he tells me it’s all mine.

That low, breathy moan right before he crosses that line—

He tries to hold back,

but his body never listens in time.

Chorus

He’s addicted to the way I talk to his “microphone,”

My forehead tapping on his stomach like a metronome.

We talk with no words,

Just that secret rhythm he only knows.

Yeah… he’s addicted—

he’s addicted to the sound of me on his “microphone.”

Verse 3

His hands slide down my back, and holds me to stay,

I feel him trying not to fall apart while I take him all the way.

He pulls my face up to his—

baby, he don’t need words with me…

that man speaks with his body,

and we talk frequently.

Chorus

He’s addicted to the way I talk to his “microphone,”

My forehead tapping on his stomach like a metronome.

We be talking with no words,

Just that language only we know.

Yeah… he’s addicted—

addicted to the sound of me talking to his “microphone.”

Yeah… he’s addicted— Yeah… he’s addicted—Yeah… he’s addicted—

To me talking to his “microphone.”