Lyrics:
Theres a bunch of birds in the sky
And some deers just went running by
Oh the snows pure and white
On the earth rich and brown
Just another sunday
junction
-We no safe anywhere, even in our nation
-Footballer no fit buy Benz, na yahoo boy by nature
-Dem say we lazy but we no follow argue
-When dem
Now down the road just a mile or two
Lives a little girl named Pearly Blue
About so high and her hair is brown
The Prettiest thing boys in this town
hips he said
Mmmm mmmmm mmmmm mmmm
My little brown haired boy
All day and then all night
I kissed and loved him right
I showed him a few tricks
Gave
and it would stunt your growth
I used to chip in with the other young folks
Back when it came in little brown envelopes
Remember the day my moms found
them in by the caseload
I'm a boss like Rozay
Young Guapo got niggas on the payroll
We used to it, not new to it
Just stacking up the paper
Went from
my veins time
Cold hearted nigga with a past
I did some dumb shit and lost a little bit of class
I ain't complaining bout it
Mama still believing in my
that's the motto,
.life goals get the bag, bag a model,
SAD boy, newark ave, brown bag the bottle, fuck the
BROWN bag, take a fucking drag off the pot
the trigger back to shoot it
Yeah, I had one it was a little shorter it was like a four, let me see, four and a half inch
And that bad boy she kicked a little
driving by your house
Though I know you're not home
But I can see you
Your brown skin shining in the sun
You got your hair combed back
And your
he put on forty-two and a half tabs of brown acid that he still had from his Woodstock days. Sprickled a little paote on her tongue just for good
Pretty young champ like Camacho, spittin the hot flow
B-Boy shout, Zulu gestapo, bro
You know my stilo, cigarrillo con tamarindo
Habichuelas negras,
two, one two, check it out
All alone, gold song, like Mike Corleone
Get a little while in the pen, still hold the throne
Blood is the same for us
go back
Just let me go by myself
Mr. Brown has already been busted for two minutes
Bottle service, out till three
Little bro talking, you don't know
to snap, Ali hold me back
Got me feelin' heated like a baby in the backseat
Running like I mixed a little Gatorade with crack
At a track meet thwarted by
the lute
The little boy from borough way he play upon the flute
Well scottie he sings the mulberry tree
And all our cares are flown
We're happy as lucks out
stand the rain
Bobby Brown it was every little thing
I know that they want my image to change
Ego told me Tj stay in yo lane
I know the people don't feel
Stand on my money it’s making me taller
My little bro stay hungry no hoop but we ballers
I got polo on you can tell by the collar
I ain’t do no
ass was to piss up
By me or anyone of my boys I bust you in yo mouth and
You still talkin' noise try'na get yo rep on knowin' that you fake
I give a little smile girl
Baby boy, you know I'm not tripping
Our shit is never dry, matching Prada, boy we dripping
I know these bitches can't get
the shots, no need to brown-nose
Cut the check at 40 grand for shows
I'm (Fresh) like Doug E., I show ya
The beat got it (Clap) like them boys from 'Nolia, I
ol' boys getting autographs
In Cincinnati, I know you heard
I got fined for the cuss words
It's true, baby, so so unique
Might slap your man
of an Englishman;
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread!”
The Giant called out, “Wife, bring the little brown hen!” The giantess went
took a B line,
Just to get to you, now I’m stuck like glue
Can I get a little, sneak preview?
We can kick it by the shore and watch the sunset too, oohh
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