Lyrics:
like Chris Brown
Hey
Music is a time machine
If you know, you know
Hey
Margaritas
Mamacitas
Hey
I been in the Dark Aether and I beat it
Hey
night along o' me,
And l'll tell you its daddy in the May morning."
"Oh, was it by a black man or was it by a brown,
Or was it by a ploughing-boy
shut the fuck up (bitch)
I'm a young black king that knows his worth
I don't do hookups (haha)
Me and bro in the kitchen, Pyrex whippin', cook up
He
this the round table nigga
If you can't stand the heat get your punk ass up out the kitchen
I'm in this mother fuckin'
This is my house in
to Ruth's Chris
Couldn't walk a mile in my new kicks
I come and find your apartments
We never had our damn pool fixed
Walk in the mall with my new bitch
daddy's out of town so uhh, you can fuck around
It's okay to check in that Motel 6
$59.95, not a cent more for that dirty-ass hoe
Yeah, stop by that
down
Hadda dance on a bih like Chris brown
I got hoes on the line cuz I'm lit now
Been a stand up nigga can't sit down
Bro fucking wit the white like get
Thought I'd make it by now
Sky bound, fly jets over my town
Light brown Persian rugs up in my lounge
First you get a little buzz then it dies down
So
can't stand the heat get your
Punk ass up out the kitchen
I'm in the mother fuckin' room
This is my house in the middle of the trap
Open this door I'm
an ambulance
I'm passin' out off of mass amounts
Of craft beer, can't hear what you're laughin' 'bout
We're drinkin' champagne by the magnum now
I got a drink in
[ INTRO: Chris Rock ]
...All this ill shit
This fuckin Sir Mix-A-Lot shit
What the fuck is this shit?
See the shit's video?
'PUT IT ON THE GLASS!'
to the Lou
And got you a straight perm
You got your ass grabbed
By your Hitman, ewww
Say word But now it makes
Sense cause in the dictionary
Shine is a verb
Rich by popular demand
The wait is over homie
Yes it is
A town connect
Know the city gon' feel this
Damn right
Say Toob I know you see me
Say Chris
cooking
Cooking, cooking
Cooking up work
Yeah I'm cooking up work
Yeah I'm cooking up work
I'm a chemist in the kitchen, whoo
And I'm all about the commas
didn't let it bother me
Took my time
Sat at the kitchen table
Wrote my rhymes
And now that I'm eighteen,I'm not a kid no more
I could walk in
I keep that nina in my clutch
So I can touch it, fucka!
A murdera - catch Gutta Gutta in
The kitchen with a birdera
Snitch niggas can't sell us shit
getting this fetti
We in the Chevy and ready to pop tags in
[Chorus:]
So whatever you tryna do lil niggas I already done
And since you wanna live by
the enclave, until then
Jet miss in the kitchen grilling up steaks
It'll smell like Ruth's Chris in a minute fool, you want a plate?
The hero unsung when I'm
Remember back in the days, next sale
Suttin' got splashed by shh, oh well
Me, I can't sleep on the L
I just hit the opp block, spill juice like-
I told bro
Herc and it touched another sound.
You wouldn't know about James Brown, Pull in the Funkdelic, the radio and still have a play in the sound. (?)
It's
up, you should call me Chris Brown
He was dissing on my cuddy till we caught him by the bounds
Caught a plug, tap in, so we get it by the pounds
Try
triggered
Guess that's just the come up
Too much heat chris brown and gunna
I'm feeling on top, but they want me under
Run up on me
I got plenty guys
They
[Verse 1 - Chris Brown]
Yesterday I fell in love
Today feels like my funeral
I just got hit by a bus
Shouldn've been so beautiful
Don't know why I
a fuccin' dear
Not mortal kombat but i told her bring her ass her
Jus pulled a chris brown on my bitch
Get her outta here
Been eating so much pussy
How
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