Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mr. Brown , by - Styles of Beyond. Song from the album Megadef, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 08.09.2003
Record label: Spytech
Song language: English
Mr. Brown |
| Oh, yeah, who wanna rip with Styles? |
| The whole place on the look out for Mr. Brown |
| We got plenty of clues and forensic files |
| Plus, areas cool so we trip for miles |
| It’s (Mister Brown!) |
| Yeah, you know the drill |
| Never holdin' em still |
| Roll 'em over the hill just slide |
| Close 'em out and open the blinds |
| Clip the wings off a bird and let it float to the side |
| Say (What?) they here me callin' |
| Shoutin' out my name I’m playin' this in the Walkman. |
| Verse 2 (Ryu) |
| Aiyo, Crash the gates |
| Aiyo, Pack the place up |
| Break stuff, takin' all the paper |
| I’mmma stay laced up |
| Keep a shank tucked, take a pay cut |
| Even let you keep the dang pay stub (Really?) |
| Say somethin' punk, what? |
| Put away the blank gun |
| Fakes wanna talk about bank, but they make none |
| Live from the sweat box |
| Sucka know the props up, pop some |
| Lookin' for the foxhunt, peace. |
| Chorus x 2 |
| «Bust shots, full clip one up in the chamber, Danger! |
| You know how we comin' |
| Rock forty inch cables |
| What is really with that though |
| Dick Blower» |
| Verse 3 (Ryu) |
| Yo, the joke’s over |
| Slap the bloke sober (Uh) |
| Catch a forty caliber case of glaucoma |
| Rider’s like Johnny Depp rollin' with Winona |
| Big trunk full of shit, blow the globe up |
| So what, nobody knows us got no love |
| Pop six, Ryu and Tak, cops know what it does |
| Hot shit, by the bungalow, drop the bloody glove |
| And won’t get caught killin' today baby, cause I’m a thug |
| Verse 4 (Tak) |
| Bottles of bear on the land of five horses |
| Man who wasn’t there like Billy Bob Thornton |
| Crush-crew landin' in steppin in to the scene |
| Fertilize newborns a Requiem for A Dream |
| It’s (Mister Brown) legendary assignment (hah!) |
| Search lights hover but can’t seem to find him |
| Track down whatever you can in the mist |
| In this case it’s the strictly the hand over fist |
| So (What?) keep your eyes peeled, post and look |
| Fresh, like Mammoth and Idea, hope to hook. |
| Verse 5 (Ryu) |
| Aiyo what’s up, takin' the blows |
| Plus Jack, whoever want it with us get slapped up (Uh) |
| Let it be known, Mr. Brown got somethin' to bust |
| The blue steel touchin' his nuts |
| The pump got a sick mind of it’s own (Oh) |
| Crackin' the globe like the edible egg |
| A nuclear rap bazooka with incredible aim |
| Who can you blame, I’m a troop cooped in a cage |
| And it’s a thin line between a chipped tooth and a fang, come on. |
| (You guy’s goin' to get liquor?) |
| Verse 6 (Tak) |
| Yo, it’s just one of those things (Yeah) |
| Where you wanna ride but it just don’t swing (What?) |
| Wanna kick a rhyme, but it just don’t bang (Ha) |
| Oh, you’ve got that new shit that still sounds played |
| Yo, it’s just one of those things (Yeah) |
| Where you wanna ride but it just don’t swing (What?) |
| Wanna kick a rhyme, but it just don’t bang (Ha) |
| Oh, you’ve got that new shit that still sounds played |
| Chorus |