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chris brown - 500 wayz lyrics

[verse 1: chris brown]
n-gg-s wanna bang in the squad, don’t wanna put the work in
say you want my money, scared of fame, better murder then
see the chopper, bullets too big, you can see the doctor surgery
mask, can’t identify the burglaries
but we know you givin’ up the confidential information
say you got the cheese, you a rat, that’s a perfect fit
n-gg-s wanna hate on a slick money makin’ mitch
love takin’ p-ssy n-gg-s hoes and givie ’em the d
ohb, it ain’t nothin’ for me to buy a b-tch
real paper, i ain’t never gotta lie to b-tches
even n-gg-s with them killers know my ma religious
all my b-tches lickin’ p-ssy with good intentions
roll the dice, yeah 3, they my f-ckin’ triplets
i ain’t f-ckin’ with them lame hoes that look suspicious
but i’m f-ckin’ with the main hoe that look delicious
n-gg-, they get sticky sticky, give that b-tch the business

[hook: chris brown]
rollin’ up the bud, yeah that b-tch a dog
yeah, we know the plug, smokin’ all the drugs, ’bout to buy the club
killin’ all the p-ssy, n-gg-, get your bodies up
all this ice up on my body, we the mighty ducks
who got the bud? who givin’ it up?
got them shooters in the cut, say the word, we f-ck the party up
throw that money up, yeah, that b-tch a dog
f-ckin’ with the plug, goin’ up, we gon’ f-ck the party up

[verse 2: young blacc]
i’m turnt up and they know that, poked up like funk flex
45 in that 12 back and i’m posted up in that 4 hat
see this n-gg-, this gold rap, kill a n-gg- then go rap
talkin’ ’bout that draco, one phone call, that’s a sn-tch
give it to a n-gg- if you really want it
b-tch coppin’ and appeals, hit me in the mornin’
ha, a n-gg- lyin’ by theyself
i’m talkin’ ’bout n-gg-s who killin’, dyin’ by theyself
you say we from the same hood, well i see your hat
and i ain’t never seen movin’ in a hoover hat
ha, switchin’ sides, you confused ’cause i’m famous
we all og n-gg-, tell me what his name is
get your weight up lil n-gg-, i’m pushin’ 4 place
it’s still puttin’ big drugs on the interstate
no name, that’s knock out, pea brains wanna glock out
n-gg-s need a p-ss the light n-gg-s, this my house

[verse 3: young lo]
yeah, my whole team supreme, grew up in the crack 80’s
still got the plug on it, get your 4 in the baby
out the mud, bustin’ drugs with my n-gg- hoody baby
drop the ice in the pot, now it’s back to back ‘cedes
see i’m all about the check, still reppin’ tex
still rep the s-x, mile high, smoke luigi on the jet
50 in these balmains, this a young’n from the lanes
yeah, i’m geeked up, mixin’ up the mollys with the xans
and i’m stingy with the act, keep the red from my b-tches
we gon’ pop a half a perc, i’m on that, even on a skittle
and the tongue gon’ work, play that p-ssy like a fiddle
bet you i can make you squirt, have your face all in the pillow

- chris brown lyrics

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