Lyrics:
fucking?
I lost my cat
I lost my cat
I lost my cat
My book of clairovyance
Tells of a prophecy
That a bitch named Chris
Will catch my cat
And cook him in
Baby come and balance it up on me
Gimme time for real
I don wanna play games, no for real
Yeah it's what I came for here (real)
Baby thats your tags
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
dancing just like Chris brown
All of my oops can get beat down
I'm on the west side my niggas we whipping the range
Baby I'm stuck in my ways
Blowing these
stupid ass, run it back
That HBO shit, I must address that
Once and for all, what's my opinion on Jamie Foxx?
He pussy, plus he ain't funny as Chris
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
Tripple O caught widda hammer
Sun tan turn ya skin tone tanner
Chris brown Get like me David banner
Who
Jah bless no man can curse
I get vex my girl
Like a hot buttered pop da pop da pop dibbie dibbie
Pop da pop pop, don't you dare stop
Come alive y'all, gimme whatcha got
I guess by now you can
Chris
(Brown)
Yeah I don't mean
Chris but
Way I hit the beat
Like a chip so crisp
An the way that I be
Spittin like a race
No drift
I'm a trouble fuckin
see you riding me
Bring a friend now
You know the type that a get down
I'm the shit now
Type a nigga that you miss now
Sick now piss brown
Gone off
block street
Nigga health care insured by that guap
More ways than [?] to me [?]
Jackals playin' overseas with they yacht
Shit I probly be the same I find
it takes one phone call
Give me that number beat and I eat it munchies
Gimme that coochie I eat it lunchie
I been waiting for a dummy to touch me
Then
degrees, I'm a graduate to a brick
Got me gradually gettin' chips
All my smokers grabbin' a sack of that poison
If you can push it, I'll give you points from
over ya shoulder
Like busta I'm bustin'
The K dot dot dot ay
Spend some blue guap
At 4 and by 5
That is yo top
Splitting his head
Like we splitting
a kite
Then a thunder gimme strike
She look like a model, twisted fantasy
Drink out the bottle and I get dizzy
I keep the cash ‘cause that pussy not
Slide with that heater, I'll tan you
Geekin and shit, boy that's something a fan do
Said he want beef, I'll can you
Bitch I ain't Chris Rock
Try to slap
And niggas don't be tripping, don't
Be doin no drive-bys
Cause we don't gangbang, don't wear blue or red
We like that fucking green and paper's what I said
Big
And niggas don't be tripping, don't
Be doin no drive-bys
Cause we don't gangbang, don't wear blue or red
We like that fucking green and paper's what I said
Big
on-and-and-on-and-on-on-and-on
Like a hot buttered pop-da-pop-da-pop, dibbie dibbie
Pop-da-pop-pop, you don't dare stop
Come alive, y'all, gimme whatcha got
I guess by now
you Chris
You know I like it when your body goes bump, bump, bump
I like this right here (let's go)
I like the way y'all ladies doing that thing
you Chris
You know I like it when your body goes bump, bump, bump
I like this right here (let's go)
I like the way y'all ladies doing that thing
If I pull up on cha cha
Know I'm gon slide
Gimme the call know I'm outside
Yeah she thinking bout us us
Know that she mine
Tell em girl that we
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
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