Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Brown Sugar, artist - Michael Christmas. Album song Role Model, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.06.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Fool's Gold
Song language: English
Brown Sugar |
Get them vocals, nigga |
Yeah, this is W somethin-somethin-somethin' |
Uh, yeah |
Violation, violation |
You supposed to be my brown sugar like Sanaa Lathan |
I’m down to chase the pussy all through the town, Jason |
Reality hit like a blunt, girl it’s time to face it |
I’m just the right amount of wit to get your mind racin' |
I asked you one thing you could bring if you went outerspace and |
I tell you all about the shit I like and the shit I hatin' |
You share your demons, don’t be scared, I promise I can take it |
I feel like Overton or Dwayne, girl, I’m all for pain |
you gon' get a ring |
I’ma even listen to you sing knowin' you can’t sing |
Fuck it, it sound beautiful to me, go 'head do ya thang |
Bring a fifth of Henny to the beach and I hate the sand |
And you not just sexy but you woke, we both hate the man |
Yeah, we both crazy, but I think I’m crazy more |
But she’d love to prove me wrong, lookin' up like «what's the score?» |
Brown sugar, spice, and everything nice |
Mix it with whatever I like |
I wrote this love letter tonight |
Hopin' I can get a bite |
She so sassy, ooh |
She so sassy, turn immature every time she walk past me |
Brown sugar, spice, and everything nice |
Mix it with whatever I like |
I’m holdin' back my tweets, I ain’t slept good all week |
I’m waitin' till I see her, I put on my best sneakers |
I’m in the mirror like Mary, I need to smoke my reefer |
I’m sweatin' hard, tryn chill, dreamin' yours in the grill |
Why can’t it all be real? |
I better have my baby and she gon' have my baby |
We gon' ball like Brady, y’all think I’m all types crazy |
Don’t care 'bout none of the lately, I ain’t write a song in a minute |
Just waitin' for a notification, this could be us but you playin' |
I’m really up, I be prayin' for bigger bucks in my hand, to grip on a butt |
while I’m layin' |
Breathe nigga, breathe, you can fly like the Matrix, and you startin' to |
believe it |
Say she love you more and I’m startin' to believe her |
Love the tiger stripes on her ass like Adidas |
Hit the shmoney dance after crackin', she crashin' |
She wake up, make her late for work and we laughin' 'bout what happened |
She had that |
Brown sugar, spice, and everything nice |
Mix it with whatever I like |
I wrote this love letter tonight |
Hopin' I can get a bite |
She so sassy, ooh |
She so sassy, turn immature every time she walk past me |
Brown sugar, spice, and everything nice |
Mix it with whatever I like |
I like, I like, I like |