Lyrics:
like condensation, water
I'm a mixture between Chris Brown
And Chris Jericho, where's your daughter?
I'm more than y'all can handle
At the Grammy's
with that Chris Brown
"Don't give me shit!" Niggas
In the streets say
"Kill them all!" Bitch, you know we got guns
Like the Pentagon i'm just eating
Yeah 1st day of summer
Hitting her up like bae what's your number
Ice in the up she's making the cut
Brown skin nice ahh now spice up the colour
Like
you know your socks are too damn small
The heel should be at the back, not at the ball
If you didn't know by now yeah I'm fucking Chris
But at least I
A small town country girl, ruler of her own world
A soul like you've never seen, a smile fit for a Queen
Time just seems to go by, and stand still
single for a year
I ain't crying no more tears
Leaving Seguin in the rear
Look at me now, I'm not Chris Brown
Cause I'm making hits, the kind that makes my
store
Right around corner from the hood liquor store
On a friday night chris got off late
Headed straight to the crib for a nice hot plate
Walking through
talking on your knees
And I dot my i's
And I cross my t's
Yea I'm brown like see's
Milk chocolate with a lil' sum special on the inside
Don't it sound nice
Come on baby I'mma take you on a joyride
Look so pretty staring at me with them brown eyes
Whip through the city when I take you on a joyride
Pretty
like Chris Brown
Smack a bitch in the mouth like Chris Brown
When I'm done with a bitch I piss brown
(Woo) you heard-a 9
11? That was me
That Columbine
like Chris Brown
Smack a bitch in the mouth like Chris Brown
When I'm done with a bitch I piss brown
(Woo) you heard-a 9
11? That was me
That Columbine
Just in case you forgot
We go by The Runners (hold up)
Chris Brown
This what we do
We do this
I be throwin' up my cash, actin' like money
faster!
Don't get caught by these bastards!
We've been through too much shit
To get hit by the Rapture!
Troy? Chris? J?
Are you guys okay?
Don't leave me
on the
guitar. He wrote it all by himself. O.K., Stevie, bring your three friends
up, they can play with you. That Seve Vai, what a nice little boy. {I wrote
to Michael Brown and mothafuck the police, bitch
I guess I got it sellin' nickel bags
I got it sellin' nickel bags
Real killer, drug dealer
I got it sellin'
ride(let's ride)
I'll be there about five(oouu)
Trying to ball like and one
Chris brown diamonds baby so they dancing
Turned my apartment to a f***** mansion
a gun
[ verse 4: king tee ]
Now you got a nice car with a brand-new paintin
Rag top convertable with all-gold daytons
You decide to take a ride down
Chris Brown
She won 3 rounds, I'mma need a hundred thou
Like china town, bitches better bow down
Oh, you ain't know? bet
Ya'll bitches know now
Fuck I
on the
guitar. He wrote it all by himself. O.K., Stevie, bring your three friends
up, they can play with you. That Seve Vai, what a nice little boy. {I wrote
(Yup)
K Michelle got them implants tooken out her butt
This year, I'm not gon' talk about that other thing (I'm not)
Chris Brown ain't dead, how
Chris Brown (Chris Brown)
Out n about shooting up the town (Uh huh)
No clout, no frown you lookin' like a clown (Yeet)
Gonna drown gonna shout "Get
fine girls
Dem nice oh
All my sweet fine girls
The girls dem nice oh
African woman I go dey for you,
You be my right I
the times that you put up a fight like that
I'm confused how it's easy to lie like that
Back-strap brown rizz and get high like that
(How you gonna change it
Torture with the super soaker at the Asian liquor store
This the type of shit that make a Chris Brown want to kick a whore
That make songs about the wet
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