Lyrics:
end up stuck up around here
So I'm speaking for my peers 'cause I still see their tears
I ain't sugarcoating nothing nigga, this is what it is
They
tweakin'
Sound like Ray J and Chris Brown on Celebrity Deathmatch
Where the latter of the two get his neck slashed
Or slapping a paraplegic with a pair
The words like it's a remix
Uh, I hit bitches like Chris Brown
I'm king of my city just
Waiting to get crowned
You highness, I'm as hot as a volcano
Give your
on Juice
WRLD on drugs
All of the legends be dying so young
Wish you were here for twenty-one more
Young brown bad vibes
Whole squad fly now
Set a goal too
in front of your mama
You get pounded (Ugh)
Treat the track like Rihanna
And "Chris Brown" it
Huh, and you say New York City
(Only describe us
Hey there, people, I'm Bobby Brown
They say I'm the cutest boy in town
My car is fast, my teeth are shiny
I tell all the girls they can kiss my
Hey there, people, I'm Bobby Brown
They say I'm the cutest boy in town
My car is fast, my teeth are shiny
I tell all the girls they can kiss my
It's real, yo but still, yo, it's love here
And it's felt by anybody that come here
Out of towners take the train, plane and bus here
Must be
the strip club, still hunching on em'
Still ripping bands, homie by the grands
Im the young boss, follow my commands
Now I'm bring bought seven hands
Back
through the game from
Every sequestered emcee who's ever been staged up
By clowns directing more effort into their make up
So here we go (Here we go!)
Here
Small town living on the isle next to Britain
I've been here for minute
Barely living just existin
18 years on the mission
Looking out for better
a clown
they still wanna pull me down, i stay happy and dance like am chris brown
get home lock myself in and stay bad like bobby brown, critics a river
disappear
We treat our friends like family out here
Out here, where the river runs wild
Dirt roads go for miles and miles
Chris Ledoux still in style,
the percussion
Blast you fast there go production
Trust, took my top hat off by all means
Lay the funk {shit} down from New Haven to Queens
My stage persona,
a record bless God that He break it
God know they tried but they know they lied I'm still here surviving
With God by my side there's nothing impossible I'm
If you a downer stay the fuck outside the club, ho
If you tired, wake the fuck up for the town, ho
If you brown nosed, keep your mouth closed
By any
Queensbridge poet back to the grill again
Did songs with Chubb Rock to Chris Brown, switch styles
Yet to see any heavyweight make it to this round
This that
to the ceiling
Still know fake from real
I slid in
Billie Jean
No Curly Neal can trick or steal the sauce
Oh really
You'll get popped by Visine Vision when
on
Red flags with the blood, full of gang signs and crip on
Chri$, rip them off
We all shine, see the muscle
Nigga flexing like bravo
Ain't no race, it's
behind bars
This is a real experience I didn't just write songs
Although I dealt dagga I would still bacha
This was around the time of Monster by Lady Gaga
And now Ladies & Gentlemen, Lupe Fiasco
Filet mignon with my food stamps
Car cosigned by my mama
Medical card from Obama
Background check for
But I don't wanna be a playa no more
I'm not a playa, I just crush a lot
But you know Big Pun and Brock still down by law
Who's down to crush
crush a lot
But you know Big Pun and Joe are still down by law
Who's down to crush tonight?
Hey yo, I'm still not a playa but you still a hater
a player, I just fuck a lot
But you know Big Pun and Joe are still down by law
Who's down to fuck tonight?
Hey yo, I'm still not a playa but you still
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