Song parody of

B.R.

by Black Rob

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  • English (English)
  • Français (French)
  • Español (Spanish)

Black rob, BR Black rob, BR I am about to set the record straight (The world's famous) It's ninety-nine, man Time to let them know, man [Black rob] Yo, aiyyo, yo, yo It's kill or be killed My skills leavin' them chilled on ice Like twice when I flash my steel They can't touch Won't touch Never touch Driving around with the toasty whip; never bust Puffin' dust like fiends I mean I want green; ya shifty Cop the big eight fifty with the gleam My team full of cut throats with enough notes to write a f***in' book Take a good f***ing look at these bad guys Stay mad fly, mad high In the Ford Expidie, and I don't expect to die On some humble s*** I am on some rumble s*** When it's on, you should see the s*** I come through with If you scared, by dog, release the four by fours I heard the fagot-a** Don died, and he s*** in his drawers On the streets, black; good like Allstate Y'all fake Just got paid, but f*** it, I want some more cake Ya faith in my hand Now ya nervous, man, and drive my brains quick fast at ya service My brother Curtis squeeze gats to celliums I make it where you can't escape the para bedlams I tell some live ya life like Puff did I did enough biz; ask any body I am rough kid [Chorus] Black Rob we are Black Rob uh-uh Black Rob we are Black Rob uh-uh Black Rob we are Black Rob uh-uh Black Rob we are Black Rob [G-Dep] Yo, yo I put a finger in the air For the hearing impaired If you're hearin' this fear Then your hearing - it cleared Man, I f*** with bod Got put on the job Don't question it to stars, I'm a put 'em in saw Straight gate I suggest you vacate When I shake, they feel earthquakes in eight states Oh, trait, off the Richter Drunk off the liquor Shot towards you, mister Off course, it hit you hard It gets hard I pick the card Any card, any problem I'm a hit your squad Eyes on the shaper when I twisted God You think you got it all together Get it ripped apart Man, you can't stand the heat Stay up outta the street N**** turn po-lice 'cause they shot up his jeep I subtract like mad Don't make me bad So I want it all; f*** had Don't make me laugh By all means Get this money; it's all green It's all good And I wished that y'all would Man, f*** that, security told ya to tuck that Now up that, now that you see where 'lux at I got the game by the balls And I get all calls So if you play to much, I put the s*** on pause [Chorus] BR BR Bad Boy, n**** Harlem Underworld Alumni The one guy The gun die Day one Life Stories Black ninety-nine Life Stories I'm here; 1999, baby, it's on I think I'm about to feel something here We here, baby Bad Boy Bad Boy

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B.R.

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