"Fancy"

[Verse 1 — Iggy Azalea:]
First thing's first, I'm the realest (realest)
Drop this and let the whole world feel it (let them feel it)
And I'm still in the Murda Bizness
I could hold wewe down, like I'm givin' lessons in physics (right, right)
You should want a bad bitch, kahaba like this (huh?)
Drop it low and pick it up just like this (yeah)
Cup of Ace, cup of Goose, cup of Cris
High heels, somethin' worth a half a ticket on my wrist (on my wrist)
Takin' all the liquor straight, never chase that (never)
Rooftop like we bringin' '88 back (what?)
Bring the hooks in, where the bass, besi at?
Champagne spillin',...

Dear God I wrote this letter,
To put my thoughts on paper,
Sometimes life seems like a criminal,
Without a well planned caper
I know You're the answer,
But I forget the question,
How do I know wewe upendo me,
When no one else, seems to care

I've tried everything I thought,
Might help me understand things,
And it didn't tell me anything,
Or even play my moyo strings
So I'm uandishi wewe this letter,
To wait for Your reply,
I am so tired, of not believing,
I'll give wewe a try

I don't know, but I got this feeling,
That today's gonna be my turning point,
Everyday I get a little bit closer,
It feels so good to finally...