I'm standing here looking in the mirror
Saying "damn" to myself
I should have known the day would come
That she would find somebody else
And all the things I took her through
Shit, I shouldn't have lasted this long
Now I'm at this telephone booth calling Tyrone

'Cause when a woman's fed up
No matter how you beg, no
It ain't nothing you can do about it (nothing you can do about it)
It's like running out of love
No matter what you say, no
And then it's too late to talk about it (too late to talk about it)

Now let's talk about how it all goes down
I used to make love to you daily
When the night fell, the same
And anytime that you were hurt
I could feel your pain
And if I had a dollar
It was yours, yeah (ooh, yeah)
And whenever we would go out
I would front the bill
But now the up is down
And the silence is sound
I hurt you too, too many times
Now I can't come around

'Cause when a woman's fed up
No matter how you beg, no
It ain't nothing you can do about it (nothing you can do about it)
Oh no, it's just like running out of love
No matter what you say, no
And then it's too late to talk about it (too late to talk about it)

Oh yeah, oh yeah, la la da da
La
La da da da da
La da da da da
La
Oh yeah, la da da da da
La
Oh, ah, listen, if you don't want to find out the hard way
Then listen to this song while the record plays

When a woman's fed up
Mama taught me along time ago
It ain't nothing you can do about it (nothing you can do about it)
Oh no, it's like running out of love
No matter what you say, no
Then it's too late to talk about it (too late to talk about it)

Yeah
You can cry a river
'Till an ocean starts to form, yeah
But she will always remember
'Cause she's a woman scorned
And if you ever get her back
It will never be the same
She's cuttin' the corners of her eyes
Every time she see your face
Now your trust is out the door
She don't want you no more
You used to tell your boys, not me
And she would always be there for you
If you had took the time to see
What that woman meant to you
Is what the mirror said to me, whoa
She was raised in Illinois
Right outside of Chicago
Some of the best cookin' you ever had
Yes, it was and I miss her
Hey woman, if you're listening
Said I miss you baby, whoa, whoa, oh yeah

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): ROBERT S. KELLY