Lyrics:
Ferragamo slippers, sippin single malt scotch
1926 Padron lit, clit pop
I’m on that Mansa Musa, the black revolution
I studied Barry Gordy, Sam Cooke and you
poppin'
I could tell just by the shoes you like shopping
Never stick to one thing you like options
Yeah I know you like to switch it up
Switch it up
Big
wanna pop a wheelie
Ride him like a Kawasaki
Big Phantom grill, cook the streets like hibachi
I'm sipping saki
I'ma roll like Gotti
Boy, why you
dreams, non legit nor to stay clean
No worry in the world nothing ever matters
Infatuated by money and sex on the platter
Well I differ from that view
the
Missiles slow you down
Sup with BIG? Pass the microphone to you
So I can take a puff
Who throw gats to Guiliani?
Flows tighter than pigeon punani, try me
these big ol dreams
I Want to live to be a man
And not gunned down by the police on my own damn street
Take a look into my brown eyes
Brown eyes
Brown
out to all my man lock down
Shitty brown (my man will)
Ah.. two-six mob, my liners
Ah.. mza (l.k.) ah.. gp wu
Ah.. barry', ah.. meth-tical
Boogie, ah..
ya eyes that you want my brown
(I can tell from ya eyes that you love my brown)
I notice yo anger and jealousy simply by all of yo moves
Usually I
Little brown-skinned lady bout five feet tall, Big Mama
[Chorus]
Early one Sunday morning
Breakfast was on the table (you gave me unconditional love)
a handstand (look at me)
Copped them 28-inch Birdmans (check out me)
Big thighs with brown eyes (okay, okay)
Some call me Weezy
But hoes holler "look
a handstand (look at me)
Copped them 28-inch Birdmans (check out me)
Big thighs with brown eyes (okay, okay)
Some call me Weezy
But hoes holler "look
He got wind of the big brown beaver So he thought he'd take himself a peek,but the beaver was quick and he grabbed him by the kiwis,
and he ain't
a'caramel wit' that Coco Ice
She even got a big sistah by the name of Chocl8 Tah
Brown Shuga babe
I gets high of yo' love, don't know howta behave
I said I
Barry Goldwater
You can't be militant if you
Ain't got no military
But it's still a very powerful word
Picture some niggas with guns
Got 'em very
hand
CHORUS
DJ Prezident Brown
Me say big up de Black man
Big up Big up!
Big up de champion
Four hundred million
You could a Rambo
You could a Tarzan
I told ya fuckin' ass I be back
In a brand new Fleetwood Cadillac
License plate say money makin' nigga fa sho
Chillin' by ya boy house kissin'
sisters taught me
That I still hold on to nowadays
Is that you can show your love just by being there
Turkey chili & brown rice
I've been eating good
That
she's got those great big legs, so pleasing' on the eye
And the preacher walked by, turned around and looked
Jack and hollered "My, my, my!"
She's
back and pull strings
Yeah yeah
Used to have that fuckin' title by name
Yeah yeah now that's nothin' but some
Fire to my flame, Yeah yeah
You ain't
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
the world go by and my thought connect
I think about the time past and the time to come
Reminisce on Bed-Stuy when I was spry and young
I used to try
That's faith
Blinded by this light pollution
If you'd like to add to my confusion
Keep talking but don't do a thing
And I can't come to a conclusion
Offer
they all call him sweet pappa Willie dear
Stronger than Samson I declare
'Til the brown skinned woman
Bobbed his hair
Big Bad Bill don't fight
Freddy C.
Y'all nigga thought you got your heart
I took their hearts I'm Barry White not Barry B.
You better see
My name starts with a C but they get the D
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