Lyrics:
just sayin', man (Talk to 'em, Chris Brown)
We out here tryna function
Look, got bad bitches, they ratchet (uh, what? Ratchet)
Bet the ding make
the man yo?
You a sham bro
I know I'm the man, I ain't gotta be endorsed
Hip hop done fell down, I gotta carry the torch
N**** feeling himself 'cause he got
mother fucker)
Wait wait wait
(Breezy)
[Verse 1: Chris Brown]
Girl I wanna make ya sing like opera
Gotta cold headed dose I'm your doctor
Pink house like
the field, but man don’t gas, man keep it real
I can’t tell you ‘bout trapping, but I know what it’s like to be trapped in the poverty
I told myself “I gotta
brown boys)
Hands up, bands down
(Gotta get it gold)
Got a closet more to go, ay
(Why you waiting til it's sold, ay?)
Mama, they work you
Mama, they work
palace
Black and Brown boy call me Miles Morales
Love yourself you're always valid
Black and Brown call me Miles Morales
Good and evil perfectly balanced
out a check for eight hundred dollars
Jigga Man, holla
1-900-Hustler, Sigel, holla at your boy
Whats up Sig? This Chris out the Young Guns dog
"You go bustin' your fist against a stone wall,
you're not usin' your brain. That's what the white man wants you to do.
Look at you! What makes
the desert?
Wild, wild west hurt to the dirt
Anti-immigration against brown skin
Sounds like Brownshirts
Silenced by so called legal violence
Somebody had
nigga alone he'll be back
In this bitch next month you
Don't want to be back
In this bitch, man don't act
That way go home
Bro you're a millionaire you're
don't know my way around
But I got some soft white that's sure to come back brown
I get that butter all night
Cause most niggaz don't know a brick from
Poop brown is the color of rhymin' that I do
I'm talkin' smooth and movin' groovy cause I'm thick like poo
Outta town is where you're sendin' UPS
a real-world scan
They cable, I'm streamin', they nice
But the difference, they can't
Do it on demand, i'm the man
B-b-bombin' on these beats if you
Tally up
beg and drink out your shoes and get they nose brown
Just the kinda man you wanted, ain't it, honey?
A big buff dumb-ass fool with hella money
Down
daddy (sponsor)
It can be a fucking homicide, it can even be a suicide
I'ma kill a nigga by a gun, or even by a fucking knife
Nikiwa show man I'm killin'
about now
You're about to be possessed
By the sounds of emcee Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock
Hit it
It takes two to make a thing go right
It takes two
mans
I don't even care, I got a couple friends I trust
Rxch Chris got my trust, yeah, lil' nigga, yeah, that's a must
I'm a little, nigga, tryna get seen
and made 'em dance, Chris Brown, Michael Jackson
My heart goes out to Young Chop, in the industry they gon' blackball him
I sold hard with the gun cocked,
I wanna party like Bon Scott on Charlie, Bob Marley non-stop,
Chris Farley pissed, party on like the bombs dropped,
So if you're drunk on Friday
Speak up clear and cloud
Brown baby
Brown baby
As years roll by
Walk with your head held high
I want you to live by
Live by the justice code
I
Wonder Mike and
I'd like to say "hello"
To the black, to the white
The red and the brown, the purple and yellow
But first
I gotta bang bang the boogie
it flip quick
Your bitch drink my nut like that shit was Greek yoghurt
They don't like my music? Then they gotta be coerced
All these people talkin'
WY Records (oh, oh, oh, oh)
Presenta
Chris Brown (yeah, yeah, yeah)
T-Pain
W, Yandel
Sh-sh-tah
Hay algo que me gusta de ti (baby)
Y ese algo
slakteri bon appétit
Fada I gotta get it get it by any means
Get the money get gyals get everyting I need
Min väg som jag tagit fått mig växa upp till man
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