| Tell me what have I done
|
| To cause you grieving, baby
|
| 400 barbells ain’t heavy as these
|
| I play my tape on them niggas, make heaven for G’s
|
| Uh seven seas, we deeper with one speaker to run
|
| Your nuns either we done, we from the bleachers
|
| You can see us we center in the arenas we winners
|
| Your bench? |
| Need to suspend em throughout the season
|
| We. |
| gold boss you lost, stop competing we large
|
| We go hard seven days, you a weekend nigga uh
|
| Trying to link with niggas, trying to buy links with niggas uh
|
| Eat a link 'fore your teeth be in the sink nigga
|
| Niggas in sync like N-sync, with niggas, niggas
|
| Get your shit back in pocket, need a brinks, need a sweet
|
| Batch of beats and a million to compete
|
| From the west, need a bulletproof vest on the beach
|
| Bobby Brown
|
| I used to like Madonna, now I like Fiona
|
| Swimming in Vienna, screaming Beni-Hana
|
| Not your kemo-sabe, know the Dalai Lama
|
| Sipping on Saki, chilling with your mama
|
| Growing marijuana, yes I am a farmer
|
| Breeding all these strains then I push it on the corner
|
| Uh the lonely stoner, put you in a coma
|
| Jim told me homie owe me 40 in the morning
|
| Pouring out a little liquor for my dead folk
|
| Slice it with a sickle it’s similar to the pen stroke
|
| I been broke but I make it so let’s go
|
| Trench coat all up in your end zone 10 strong
|
| Jumping on your chest til your head blown up
|
| Clutch keep your mouth sewn shut
|
| Bobby Brown
|
| I’ve been known to clown around, hang around underground spitters
|
| It’s time y’all keep an eye on the kid like babysitters
|
| Oh, the major league heavy hitters; |
| grand slamming
|
| Look I was getting bored with this game; |
| backgammon
|
| I’m back blam-blamming, they keep pulling me back in
|
| Oh, Inglewood’s finest minus the mac-10, No
|
| All I need is my mind I’m fine I’ma clap
|
| Toss him inside a coffin, talking like they want action
|
| Nah, they don’t want it, what for?
|
| It sucks for, rappers after us 4 we bust raw
|
| Rocking for heads like Mt. Rushmore, that’s what all the fuss for
|
| Heavy on the track, train niggas how to rap
|
| Get it? |
| Nah they won’t get it til they wig splitted, dummies
|
| Walking round rocking that Gumby
|
| Bobby Brown
|
| All beef disintegrates when we create the masterpiece
|
| Fire up competition like digits to blast the heat
|
| Cause in my presence y’all peasants and I’m your majesty
|
| Y’all court jesters of this industry it’s sad to see
|
| I lay my game down cause shit just ain’t the same now
|
| Refuse to be devoured got soul power like James Brown
|
| Mad cause I came round, rocked spots in your same town
|
| After we hit the stage, no one recalls your name now
|
| The world’s my playground, economy’s in recess
|
| The policy is respect, we clowning all the rejects
|
| If this shit was a game then you’d probably press the reset
|
| Schooling on this console and I ain’t reach my peak yet
|
| Yeah I hear talking but all I’m hearing is weak threats
|
| I can’t take all the credit cause y’all niggas in deep debt
|
| Bobby
|
| Tell me what have I done
|
| To cause you grieving
|
| And make you wanna leave me this way |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bobby Brown, artist - Blu. Album song Good to Be Home, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп