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
Date of issue: 19.05.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Greenstreets Entertainment
Song language: English
Bobby Brown |
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 |