Lyrics:
the kitchen
My love is what you missin'
And every pillow in this condolea down
[Chris Brown and Rich Girl]
Down on your body when you wake up
[Rich Girl]
So
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
nigga you live in agony
You a bitch nigga you grabbing on ya knees
This is that shit nigga Anti-Gravity
Aye
Chris Brown how a nigga dance
Bro keeping
of hell's kitchen praying he don't stick from the stove
God got me, illum-i-not-me written in bold
Slept on, now I'm everywhere like g-g-g-go crazy
Buy 150
nights
Though it might seem wrong thank god for that white
They use to call me the pirex kid, aka young arm and hammer
In the kitchen with the pots yeah
to call me the pirex kid, aka young arm and hammer
In the kitchen with the pots yeah work the glass
Hard on 'em pimp yeah I work the task
And when they
[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
[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
nights
Though it might seem wrong thank god for that white
They use to call me the pirex kid, aka young arm and hammer
In the kitchen with the pots yeah
[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
they dance
Like Chris Brown
They do powder
Fuck her in the kitchen
Then fuck her in the shower
Gone off the smoke
Smoking weed
Burning flowers
Ion need
the curves that
Could stop moving traffic
I'mma tap that ass
If it puts me in a casket
I heard about Chris Brown
He was driving his girl around
And then
of rap
foreign on some rims cruising hollywood with your O.G bitch head bobbing in my lap
With my city on my brim, rolling up some lye with a caramel brown
& brown rice
I was eating good
That don't even sound nice
I was in the kitchen
That don't even sound right
My sister made a menu
And all I can tell you is
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
respect bitch you dub I stand on a hunnit you ain’t Chris brown you ain’t never gon run it if I want it right now imma get it stop fronting if the dick too
the clay, always cooking
Gone late night, cook the keys in the kitchen
Give me nine ounces
Lemme get up on a mission
Make my damn green
So I can be like you
the clay, always cooking
Gone late night, cook the keys in the kitchen
Give me nine ounces
Lemme get up on a mission
Make my damn green
So I can be like you
California sweet. She cookin' in the kitchen, bring me California eats
I repeat, she so sweet, I rub on her damn feet. We both workin' long days, we California
the levers is
I got a big ting lookin pregnant
Got a big ting lookin like Rikishi
I still put Chris Brown in the press
But anyone fall for Karrueche
Losses
onions in the kitchen
Sunday morning my best shirt
Crock-pot's on for dinner after church
Dad was baptized by Lynchburg
Mama'd always beg him to come
Oh yeah
30K
Uh, uh
Take off your shoes, baby no Cinderella
Chris Brown, need you under my umbrella
Always out with the mob, I'm a Goodfella
Let's
crack stoves, clutching fishing poles in the kitchen
Open doors come from dealing lows, tryna hit the road in the Bentley
I'm making progress, I can not
just above the sofa
And the brown and the beige
And the brown and the beige and the brown
In the kitchen hang copper pans against the paneled wall
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