Lyrics:
lightening bugs on my windshield
That back road, no cops found and I'm sipping on that hot brown
I wreck shit, my motto, got rednecks by the truckload
That
(spoken)
Little Girl: Now the letter is "Q".
And one word that begins with "Q" is "question."
(sung)
Now here is a question,
A question for you
That was landin' on the floor
Whee, ker-pow!
Somehow I would've met you anyhow
You fix it up and then, oh holy cow
You folks are gonna see me now
Well,
really blame you? (Who can really blame you?)
We're the ones who made you
Ahem, back by popular demand
Now pop a little Zantac for antacid if you can
in your bed now I'm ready for a long fuck
Necromance that ass for a minute
And split that motherfuckin' click when I'm finished
You punk bitches
in your bed now I'm ready for a long fuck
Necromance that ass for a minute
And split that motherfuckin' click when I'm finished
You punk bitches
In she comes a ridin' on a mornin' sunrise
I am left to believing all that is standing before my eyes
And I wonder, now I wonder
Would the sun have
to her to the rhythm of a hi-hat
She got a beautiful mind, you can't buy that (uh-uh)
And the sight of her behind when she walk on by
Make a nigga
the coffin.
We're poisoned by venom with each breath we take,
From the brown sulfur chimney and the black highway snake.
Every dawn that breaks golden is
[Verse 1]
I must have made You cry a million tears
Used enough mercy for a million years
You'd think by now Your grace would disappear
Guess that's
all about
Don't sit around my house and pout
If you do you'll catch your mama tippin' now
Do your duty
If you make your own bed hard
That's
don't get fed up
My people rise, my people fight
My people do alright
My people walk with pride and
We're marchin' side by side and
My people laugh,
Mayor
(Fanfare of trumpets mayor
Gorgeously dressed with
Dignitaries enters flanked by trumpeters)
Clerk: You're in luck
(In long shot now the Mayor
Who
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
a snowman
Then pretend that he is Parson Brown
He'll say are you married
We'll say no man
But you can do the job
While you're in town
Later on, we'll
is Parson Brown
He'll say: Are you married?
We'll say: No man
But you can do the job
When you're in town
Later on, we'll conspire(Here comes Santa
like Chris Brown
Mothafucka cause I run it
Yeah, and you thought you had this your way
But when you think about it homie
It was really your way
And now
You're bundled up now, wait 'til you get older
But the meteor men beg to differ
Judging by the hole in the satellite picture
The ice we skate is getting
I bet you're from out West somewhere
Hazel eyes and dark brown hair
And everything you wear fits you just right
I bet you drink martinis dry
chick (yo)
This is no intention of bein' offensive to women
By calling y'all bitches, my down-ass bitches
Still my queen, princess cuts look clean
do a drive by, and see if you're home
Now there's a fine, fine line between a memory
And something any shrink would call an injury
But it's not over
Ayy, Ayy, Ayy, Ayy
Ayy, Ayy, Ayy, Ayy, Ayy, Ayy, Ayy
I be loved by ladies, I'm the brown Chris Brown
Matter fact, call me The Brown Breezy who's
said put the cake
How you fed me the grapes
What I did with the ice that made you shake, shake
Now when the night's over and the girl is gone
contract.. Gotcha!
Motown, Stax, bring the beat back
(Bring that beat back!)
The Sound, free Mumia and H. Rap Brown
Sure enough going down now
Jamil Al Amin,
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