chris brown – first 48 lyrics
let that beat drop.
look, go on make em clap, make em do that.
and when this n-gg- rap, they be like “who dat?”
she in the party super wet, where the pool at?
i got a big head, so my hat adjust to 2 snaps.
money to the ceiling, tell me where my roof at.
your pants too tight, maybe you just too fat.
just a cheetoh with doritos, yea, i lay em like du-rags.
boy, i know why you mad, cause my chain stoopid.
and your girl leaning all on me.
imma give her a couple of drinks, then i put her -ss to sleep.
bedtime, if she come she a freak.
then you read them headlines that she f-cking with c.b.
what you mean? imma ball out.
i’m driving sp-ce ships, i threw my cars out.
what i call a garage, you call a house.
live in that hole in the wall, you are a mouse.
they be like “chris, you killing it.” soprano.
valet tryna steal my keys, n-gg- this ain’t no piano.
what you mean? i’m the president, but f-ck a bout a plan though.
they gonna have to change the channel, cause its way too much to handle.
all that bullsh-t, i ain’t hearing it.
cause i’m on point, like a pyramid.
and i’m flushing you t-rds, killing sh-t.
only hear two words, n-gg- sit.
i’m the b e s t e s t.
i’m in that range, you in that low key.
off that super loud, the car smoking, but it’s friday.
what up smokey?
d-mn, man all these cameras are bananas.
and the waitress hate me, hope she don’t spit in my sandwich.
yea, ya’ll can’t get at me like a mention.
indirectly, ya’ll respect me, because this boy in detention.
but still i walk around too proud.
neighbors mad at me, cause i f-ck too loud.
you would think i was police, how i move crowds.
v-a-gina! two up, two down.
team breezy, yea i’m reppin it.
we the sh-t boiiii, so don’t step in it.
i’m all about my stripes, like a veteran.
and it’s getting too late, i need to take my medicine.
ok, ok let me go.
n-gg- be shining, this soul glow. [?]
boy, look at all these diamonds,
and my chain so heavy, and my neck be rhyming. [?]
can’t see you, all i see is my shades.
girl, got her giddy giddy, frankie lyeman.
i make her c-m like clockwork.
what you call that? perfect timing.
they call me hercules.
just like a slave, she working me.
know she off that bong weed, when she smoking and got them purple leaves.
7-eleven head, no hands when she slurping me.
then she swallowed my sword, like a circus freak.