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chrisbrown



I'm just tryna beat it up he could it acapella
We should go back to my crib that's what I'ma tell her
Bring one or two of them cause your friends looking kinda jealous
Rolling papers like propellers blowing mozzarella
Lotta niggas in the club who cares I'm the realest
Tell the waiters we gon need more cases
And when you think the moneys gone we spending more faces
She with homeboy but she want this
Six cars eight chains three cribs one Wiz

She thick in her hips Cold than a mother
Licking her lips a bad mothersucker
Apple looking so right she make me want a piece
I give it to her all night so she dont wanna leave

If you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Ladies put ya hands up if you got bomb-bomb
Girl you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb

Hold up kimosabe my crib look like a lobby
I'm in that black Bugatti
And I off that carlo Rossi
I with that Taylor Posse
These ladies wanna party
And there's so much ice up on my neck it look like I play hockey
So hold up nigga stop me
All these haters watch me
I give it up your in the deep you can call me cocky
Any stage or any beat you know I'ma body
And Wiz roll that good shit up and he riding shotty

She thick in her hips Cold than a mother
Licking her lips a bad mothersucker
Apple looking so right she make me want a piece
I give it to her all night so she don't wanna leave

If you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Ladies put ya hands up if you got bomb-bomb
Girl you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb
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written by STREETER, AMBER / MARSH, NICK / JONES, STEPH / BROWN, CHRISTOPHER MAURICE / RILEY, WINSTON DELANO / BUENDIA, RYAN / THOMAZ, CAMERON JIBRIL / MCHENRY, MICHAEL OJIKE / MCCALL, KEVIN / BAPTISTE, JEAN PAUL LOUIS
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.