CHORUS
Now this lady, the one that I got,
She ain’t like none of you baddies or thots.
She ain’t no clown, she ain’t no trick,
But she got rhythm that make a man stick.
Ooh-wee, you better respect her,
She’s a florist — Rebecca Floyd Watts — go get her.
She built strong like a brick-house stance,
And she don’t chase no rumor or chance.
You might smile, you might flirt in her face,
But keep it to yourself — give the queen her space.
She’s the truth, and brother she shine,
She’ll send you on your way like a postal line.
BRIDGE
Ooh, this woman don’t play —
No PlayStation, Xbox, day by day.
She’ll call you out right to your face,
So give her respect or get out her space.
Strongest woman I done ever seen,
Strongest heart, know what I mean?
She dress so fine and she stay clean,
Pop them collars like collard-green steam.
VERSE ONE
Step back, showroom boys — let her through,
Coolest vibe with a confident view.
She walk smooth like a Cadillac slide,
Slow funky bass with a Sunday-drive stride.
Her smile ain’t loud, but her presence speak,
Say a whole lot with a brow and a cheek.
Class in her hands, cool in her voice,
She stand tall ’cause she made that choice.
She don’t rush, she don’t explain,
She ain’t buyin’ nobody’s game.
Soul like velvet, mind like steel,
Still got warmth that help you heal.
You come wrong — she correct that fast,
But grace stay first and dignity last.
CHORUS (REPEAT)
Now this lady, the one that I got…
VERSE TWO
She make hustlers think twice,
Make a wild man slow down nice.
Not with fear — but respect,
Grown-folks honor when she connect.
She ain’t beggin’, she don’t chase,
She attract energy to her space.
Wisdom sittin’ behind them eyes,
Spirit seasoned, never surprised.
This ain’t fragile — she built from storms,
Learned her lessons, changed her forms.
She love steady, she love deep,
She protect her peace and keep her sleep.
Laugh like vinyl on a turntable spin,
Music from sorrow now playin’ like win.
BREAKDOWN TALK
Wah-wah guitars, horns ring out —
That’s a queen right there, no doubt.
Not pretend love, not shaky ground —
She the bassline holdin’ the sound.
LAST CHORUS
Now this lady, the one that I got,
Ain’t like none of you talk-too-much plots.
She hold it calm, she hold it proud,
She the melody above the crowd.
Rebecca Floyd Watts — yeah, say her name —
Brick-house soul in a grown-woman frame.
OUTRO
Keep it smooth.
Keep it funky.
Give respect — or move aside.
’Cause she don’t play.
Wawee
