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chris brown - studio (freestyle) lyrics

[intro]
oh, we got this beat?

[chorus]
i’m just sitting in the studio just tryna get to you, baby
oh, song so f’ing dope, girl, it’s hard not for me to blaze it, let’s go
to tell the truth, wish it was you in this booth that i could play with
huh, aight, let me see, let me see what i got

[verse]
okay, i be bangin’ all on that beat
808, she got the b-ss when her booty shake
she got her friends with her and they a sight to see
all that b-tt, don’t let it go to waste
all this hennessy, the liquor, ’bout to penetrate
while i’m pushin’ lamborghini’s on the interstate
i long-stroke her, i’ma go for hours
you minute-made like lemonade
i’m fresh as h-ll in these margielas
as i skate p-ss, better than veterans
bipolar cold, give me the medicine
my chain too bright, no thomas edison
when i pull it out, chick nervous
better ride this wave, chick, surf it
girl, you better keep them legs open
only thing you close is these curtains
ha, and she only got time for a brother if i take her out to eat
a brother really gotta motivate
man, that’s too much work for the kitty, i don’t work for the kitty
really don’t communicate
ha, i’d rather l1ck it like a dinner plate
i’d rather keep my money in a safe
man, i ain’t got time to play
i need it now, not a minute late
now she blowin’ up my line on the cellular
she wanna lock a brother down, on the regular
talkin’ crazy to me like she own it
but i don’t trust her as far as i can throw her
huh, momma told me to find a keeper
but i switch like designer sneakers
a girl with the finest features
every brother wanna talk to her, but i got her first, finders keepers
violins in the back, is my theme music
her booty on my mind, i dream booty
any __ wanna ___ my ___
then it’s off with his head, how kings do it
my ring’s ruby
red bandana, i stay woopin’
got too many cribs, i stay movin’
three lambos, i stay coupin’
yeah, but you don’t hear me though
virginia to the westside
my car foreign, the girl sit on the left side
i smokin’ weed on the plane, that’s the best high
she gotta sign the waiver ‘fore i let her fly
huh, it’s helipads on the boat
chillin’ in the south of france, saint-tropez, nice, monaco
but nothin’ compare to what’s in my pants, girl, stop playin’

- chris brown lyrics

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