Lyrics:
club with my big bro
Named Weezy F, and we do it the best
Already 60 racks and leave the floor messy
Young Money, homie, YMCMB
Got a brown tone for
the script
Whatever the traitors name
My aim is dunk em like
I'm Chris Webber
So many phony smilin' faces
Traces of slander
Got em comin' outta funny
relapse
International Gunna, I been all across the map
She love my persona, ain't no cap in none of my raps
I'm in London, and these bitches lookin' at me
(Hennessy)
Hahaha, y'all niggas can't fuck with this ol' thug shit
They wanna knows my role model, it's in a brown bottle
(Ooooh, ba-ba, ba-ba-dahhhhh)
jive type
Casanova Brown
That jive type, that jive type,
Casanova Brown
I was sittin' there mindin' my business
Feelin' good, checkin' things out
like I'm Escape the Fate
Turn my idols into rivals when I trail blaze, ooh
Y'all mad
I'm doing what you said I couldn't, now I'm "all that"
Told me leave
Chris Brown ain't got nun on me
I know I'm not perfect, But I know that I'm worth the time
I ask you for to ease my mind when I'm losin' it
I ain't never
Blew all my financial aid just to impress 'em but
It's all good all good all good all good
We made it to another summer
Ridin' by summer breeze through
with Knowing that the last time you spoke was the last time you'd see him
Next day, Chris called me and told me I got vexed
Till it all just sunk in -
kindly way
He served us one and all
Many a patient forgot to pay
although' doc's fees were small
But Old Doc Brown didn't seem to mind
He didn't
you step into my house
Would you please come with respect?
If not then I'll have to have my man DOA
Drop it, yeah
Come on y'all
What'cha wanna do? Huh
the misty morning fog with
Our hearts a thumpin' and you
My brown-eyed girl
You, my brown-eyed girl
Whatever happened
To Tuesday and so slow?
Going
the best so nobody can rival
My life a movie just give it a title
Killing these beats is like an addiction
Come get this bih I don't know why she trippin
it gone be
Trick or treat
Huh... break it down
Darkskin Chris brown ima bout to take you down
She my queen I just replaced a ring for a crown
Pretty
dead if I say it's my call
Bands jump out the ride or cycle
Watch Marnz beat it like Michael
Four-four long nose bine full, just for the rivals
I'm
Theresa May
Recently, I've been forcing rhymes
Eminem does it all the time
Now Shady's forty-five
Anyone still check Shade 45?
By the way, Oliver Age 24
one all
In all, they gave me magazines, tea
Some better soap than the prison's soap
An earphone radio, and extra chow
There's Chris
Who gave me
someone to do shit
My only hope is the music
When I got a check then I started to see i could do it
Smoking on gas therapeutic
H20 all on my wrist I'm too
Brother
Brother
Brother
I'm a South Indian macha, brown-skinned in my colour
Found infinite, crowned intellect, cow sensitive brother
I'm a South
Rollin' in a golden Tacoma, the shit's stolen
If that bitch tell on me, I'ma do a fuckin' drive-by in her colon
With my meat, gotta keep it obsolete
missing
Just like the roof is, riding in that Chris Brown
Two seater deuces, peeling like I skip town
Pocket full of brick money, neck full of black gold
last (I swear)
I was born empty-handed but a nigga know I had to get a bag (know it)
I was raised by my mama so a nigga never really had a dad (never)
[Ludacris (Chris Brown)]
Luda!(yep)
S.g.!
Chris breezy (it's me)
[Chorus]
I know what them girls
I know I know what them girls
I know I know
Chris, yeah
What, 30-30on me, waiting on the lift
Yeah, check my outfit, everything crisp
Like my money, nigga, we don't drink no criss
Make me run it,
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