| Oh, yeah, who wanna rip with Styles?
|
| The whole place on the lookout for Mr. Brown
|
| We’ve got, plenty of clues and forensic files
|
| Plus, envious crews, so we trip for miles
|
| It’s (Mister Brown!)
|
| Yeah, you know the drill
|
| Never holdin' 'em still
|
| Roll 'em over the hill
|
| Just glide, close your mouth and open the blinds
|
| Took the wings off a bird and let it float to the side
|
| Say (What?) to hear me callin
|
| Shoutin out my name and playin' this in the Walkman
|
| Aiyo, crash the gates
|
| Aiyo, pack the place up
|
| Break stuff, takin' all the paper
|
| I’mma 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 sweatbox, sucking all the props up
|
| Pop some, lookin' for the foxhunt, peace
|
| Yo, the joke’s over, slap the bloke sober
|
| Catch a .40 caliber case of glaucoma
|
| Riders like Johnny Depp rollin' with Winona
|
| Big trunk fulla shit, blow the globe up
|
| So what? |
| nobody knows us, got no love
|
| Pop 6, Ryu and Tak, cops know what it does
|
| Hot shit by the bungalow, drop the bloody glove
|
| Won’t get caught killin' today, baby, cause I’m a thug
|
| Bottles of beer from the land of five horses
|
| Man who wasn’t there like Billy Bob Thornton
|
| Crush-crew landin in, steppin' into the scene
|
| Fertilize new lawns, a Requiem for a Dream
|
| It’s (Mister Brown!), legendary assignment
|
| Searchlights hover, but can’t seem to find him
|
| Track down whatever you can in the mist
|
| In this case, it’s strictly the hand of a fist
|
| So (What?), keep your eyes peeled, post and look fresh
|
| Like, Mammoth and Ideal (???), hope to hook checks
|
| Aiyo, what’s up, ticket the blows
|
| Plus, jack whoever wanted 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
|
| Yo, it’s just one of those things
|
| Where you wanna ride but it just won’t swing
|
| Wanna kick a rhyme, but it just don’t bang
|
| Oh, you’ve got that new shit that still sounds played
|
| Yo, it’s just one of those things
|
| Where you wanna ride but it just won’t swing
|
| Wanna kick a rhyme, but it just don’t bang
|
| Oh, you’ve got that new shit that still sounds played |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mr. Brown ((Dirty) Previously Unreleased) , by - Styles of Beyond. Song from the album Pay Me b/w Bleach, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп