| Oh, yeah, who wanna rip with Styles?
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| The whole place on the lookout for Mr. Brown
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| We’ve got, plenty of clues and forensic files
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| Plus, envious crews, so we trip for miles
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| It’s (Mister Brown!)
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| Yeah, you know the drill
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| Never holdin' 'em still
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| Roll 'em over the hill
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| Just glide, close your mouth and open the blinds
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| Took the wings off a bird and let it float to the side
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| Say (What?) to hear me callin
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| Shoutin out my name and playin' this in the Walkman
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| Aiyo, crash the gates
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| Aiyo, pack the place up
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| Break stuff, takin' all the paper
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| I’mma stay laced up
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| Keep a shank tucked, take a pay cut
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| Even let you keep the dang pay stub (really?)
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| Say somethin, punk, what, put away the blank gun
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| Fakes wanna talk about bank but they make none
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| Live from the sweatbox, sucking all the props up
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| Pop some, lookin' for the foxhunt, peace
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| Yo, the joke’s over, slap the bloke sober
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| Catch a .40 caliber case of glaucoma
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| Riders like Johnny Depp rollin' with Winona
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| Big trunk fulla shit, blow the globe up
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| So what? |
| nobody knows us, got no love
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| Pop 6, Ryu and Tak, cops know what it does
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| Hot shit by the bungalow, drop the bloody glove
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| Won’t get caught killin' today, baby, cause I’m a thug
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| Bottles of beer from the land of five horses
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| Man who wasn’t there like Billy Bob Thornton
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| Crush-crew landin in, steppin' into the scene
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| Fertilize new lawns, a Requiem for a Dream
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| It’s (Mister Brown!), legendary assignment
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| Searchlights hover, but can’t seem to find him
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| Track down whatever you can in the mist
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| In this case, it’s strictly the hand of a fist
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| So (What?), keep your eyes peeled, post and look fresh
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| Like, Mammoth and Ideal (???), hope to hook checks
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| Aiyo, what’s up, ticket the blows
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| Plus, jack whoever wanted with us, get slapped up, (UH) let it be known
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| Mr. Brown got somethin' to bust
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| The blue steel touchin' his nuts
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| The pump got a sick mind of it’s own
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| Oh, crackin' the globe like the edible egg
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| A nuclear rap bazooka with incredible aim
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| Who can you blame? |
| I’m a troop cooped in a cage
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| And it’s a thin line between a chipped tooth and a fang, come on
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| Yo, it’s just one of those things
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| Where you wanna ride but it just won’t swing
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| Wanna kick a rhyme, but it just don’t bang
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| Oh, you’ve got that new shit that still sounds played
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| Yo, it’s just one of those things
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| Where you wanna ride but it just won’t swing
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| Wanna kick a rhyme, but it just don’t bang
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| Oh, you’ve got that new shit that still sounds played |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mr. Brown ((Dirty) Previously Unreleased), artist - Styles of Beyond. Album song Pay Me b/w Bleach, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп