Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Deuces Remix, artist - Chris Brown. Date of issue: 24.06.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Deuces Remix |
| What you mean I ain’t call you? |
| I hit you when I landed |
| I’m waiting in my hotel room |
| seems like we are arguing more and it’s getting less romantic |
| yeah, I think she’ll be able to tell soon |
| but I fucked you right, I will |
| I fucked you right I will |
| I’ll fuck you like no one has ever ever made you feel |
| I mean this part of our relationship’s amazing still |
| I might just put up with the arguing and stay for real |
| you looking bad, girl for goodness sakes |
| you with all those curves and me without no breaks |
| ooh, I’m willing to work it out however long it takes you |
| you feel like you miss those happy days well girl that makes two of us |
| Our timing is wrong |
| your friends always tying up every line on your phone |
| Yeah, but tell them bitches that you’ll always be my Mrs |
| and the hardest part about the fucking business is minding your own |
| uhh, and everytime I try and break it off |
| we just yell until we tired then I break you off |
| it’s useless all this fighting lets get past it now |
| even when I throw them deuces you just send it back around |
| Your wrist and fingers glisten |
| ice cold like Michigan |
| eh look at what we living in |
| here we go with this again |
| I just keep on talking but I guess that you ain’t listening |
| rather run around with them nothing ass bitches |
| then, go on, got me hot, smoking like a chimney |
| we used to be best friends, now it seems we finna be enemy’s |
| deep inside it’s killing me |
| but soon its gonna be killing you |
| to see her in that two seater, now that’s gonna hurt your feelin’s boo |
| ah ha, didn’t you think you would be over me |
| by now so you go sleeping with them clowns, they are no relief |
| she spoke her piece, I know, capisce |
| so love must be let go, released |
| into the wind, again again and deuces I must throw ya peace |
| You know what, yo? |
| you a bitch! |
| you should have a travel agent cause you a trip |
| you should make your own toilet tissue since you the shit |
| but all you got is some fucking issues you fucking bitch |
| I hate niggas, but I love your mom |
| give her a kiss for me, her second son |
| get your mind right baby or get your shit together |
| you gonna be hot a little while |
| I’mma be rich forever |
| girl seducers, they come in Deuces |
| when I cut em off they always become a nuisance |
| niggas take my old flows and they take my old swag |
| he just took my old bitch and turn it to his new bitch |
| hehe. |
| I’m stupid |
| but I won’t get my drama on |
| what I’m dealing with is too real for me to comment on |
| Jay finally got it through my head not to run my mouth |
| so when you talk bout «you know who» I don’t know who you talkin' bout |
| According to my old bitch I be on some new shit |
| she was on some old shit, now I got a new bitch |
| think I give two shits |
| you ain’t gonna do shit |
| meet my two fingers, intro… deuces |
| if you knew better you’d do better |
| wanna get the middle finger but I got two better |
| So you gonna diss me even though you know it’s wrong |
| know you gonna (miss me a little when I’m gone) |
| Drizzy voice, now I’m ghost baby |
| four door Rizzy Royce |
| tryna work it out might be a bad business choice |
| I’m bout my business boys |
| plus I make paper |
| come on that’s old news |
| yesterday’s paper |
| oh, you talkin', what about? |
| if it ain’t how I kept you studded out |
| you might as well shut ya mouth |
| you’ll never score another me, I’ll shut it out |
| act like there’s gum in your hair girl, cut it out |
| Got a pocket full of hundreds |
| she the only one is missing |
| got a bucket full of ice |
| and a watch to go with it |
| got a racing Lamborghini |
| have my homies scared to drive |
| haters better put their head down they know that boy be fly |
| all the charter planes |
| now i’m talking ballers slang |
| R.O.Z.A.Y on that wall in the hall of fame |
| I let my denim sag |
| red Louis belt |
| how can u love me baby, first you gotta love yourself ! |
| The farewell email from a female |
| but I’m a player, ain’t gonna tell you all the details |
| what it entails is hard to say like selling seashells |
| by the seashore, but she’s not a bore but neither a whore |
| who needs to know more |
| the kind you can’t ignore but want to open the door… for, |
| or run in your favourite store and leave with all them shopping bags and half |
| of it ain’t your’s, |
| I did things for, ain’t rich ain’t poor |
| I want it to do more but hell I just ain’t know her |
| well enough to know if this is all she came for |
| but enough to know tonight excited she came four |
| times to my cousins house to see if I was there |
| get ya minds out the gutter man |
| we out here tryna have a good time |
| and here I am, all heavy with the words where |
| somebody that’s a nerd, likely fast forward |
| but shit they asked for it |
| it’s hard to throw up them deuces cause when you know it’s juicy |
| you start to sound like Confucius when making up excuses |
| chase the Cabooses until the track gone |
| I gotta find me a new locomotive stop making sad songs |
| I’m on some new shit |
| I’m chucking my deuces up to her |
| I’m moving on to something better, better, better |
| No more trying to make it work |
| You made me wanna say bye bye, say bye bye, say bye bye to her |