Whip Appeal lyrics - Frank Ocean

I'm out in front of Supreme, like I own it

Buttercream Benz, goldfinger wheels

Driver can't steer, but look like Pam Grier

She like "Where's there parking around here"

That spots reserved, so are those right there

Reserved for who?

For pretty girls in sports cars

Pretty girl driving my sports car

'Cause my license been suspended

Pretty girl driving my sports car

Got my feet up on the wood grain, roof missing

You've got that whip appeal

Whipping my stick, shift, gear

You'd be under the jail, girl

Only if whipping could kill

Up and down Mulholland, on the weekends we chill

You're driving with no shoes – cruise control

Love the way you take the wheel

Got your photo on my air freshener

In a sense just like the

Pretty girl driving my sports car

'Cause my license been suspended

Pretty girl driving my sports car

Got my feet up on the wood grain, roof missing

You've got that whip appeal

Whipping my stick, shift, gear

You'd be under the jail, girl

Only if whipping could kill

I just finished practice

She's on her way to get me, she's in traffic

She said give her 20 minutes (I'm finna hop in the shower)

Girl I hope 20 don't mean an hour

And as the cold water runs over my chest

I've been thinking 'bout your skirt on my head rest

Pretty girl driving my sports car

Pretty, roof missing

You've got that whip appeal

Whipping my stick, shift, gear

You'd be under the jail, girl

Only if whipping could kill

You've got that whip appeal

Whipping my stick, shift, gear

You'd be under the jail, girl

Only if whipping could kill

I let you drive my Benz

Flossing all your friends around town

I let you fill my seats with shopping bags

I let you go do your thing riding with your friends 'round town

Riding with your girlfriends

And I always keep it clean

So why don't you park in the front just to stunt

That'll make all them bitches mad

Why don't you lift up the roof just to stunt

It'll make all them bitches mad

All them girls wanna be you

You've got that whip appeal

Whipping my stick, shift, gear

You'd be under the jail, girl

Only if whipping could kill