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chris brown & tyga – bitches n marijuana lyrics

[hook: chris brown]
you can tell by the way i walk that i got ’em
peel any girl that i wanna, got b-tches and marijuana
i can tell by the way you move that you a problem
peel any girl that i wanna, got b-tches and marijuana
i got ’em, i got ’em
ooh, she dance, she don’t do it for free
i got ’em, i got ’em
got b-tches and marijuana

[verse 1: tyga]
t-ballin’, globetrotter
got a bunch of pre-rolls and a gold lighter
think you on fire? you gon’ need more fire
i tell her that’s all you get like street fighter
nah, walk with me, yeah, talk to me
that body cold, chess game like a p-wn to me
she wanna ride with me, kick it and vibe with me
i got that long clip, fall asleep to the movie
motherf-ckin’ goonies, cartier rubies
coupe, no top, yeah i took off the kufi
i’m high, i’m woozie, d’usse, i’m doosing
i might just be right with my b-tch in jacuzzi
right, n-gga, gettin’ right, n-gga
i’mma knock that p-ssy out, fight night n-gga
i’mma light it up, p-ss it to the right n-gga
all b-tches at the crib, don’t invite n-ggas, yeah

[hook: chris brown]
you can tell by the way i walk that i got ’em
peel any girl that i wanna, got b-tches and marijuana
i can tell by the way you move that you a problem
(you a problem)
peel any girl that i wanna, got b-tches and marijuana
i got ’em, i got ’em
ooh, she dance, she don’t do it for free
i got ’em, i got ’em
got b-tches and marijuana

[verse 2: chris brown]
pull up, got the fat sack
with some clean motherf-ckers, no hood rats
yeah we suited and booted, you know your b-tch ’bout to toot it
she want love from a n-gga, that’s a heart attack, yack
loud pack, give me all of that
don’t be sending naked pics cause my phone tapped
black mask, duffel bag and a hundred racks
i don’t snitch but i could show you where the money at
me n-gga
it’s right here
got girls and they all on my lap, they with me n-gga
h-ll yeah
you see the lambo parked in the trap, that’s me n-gga
i own it while you living on a lease n-gga
i’m known to keep my b-tches on a leash n-gga
i smoke it by the pound, what you talking ’bout?
i d-ck your b-tch down then i walk it out

[verse 3: schoolboy q]
grimy n-gga way too groovy for the grammys
overseas collecting panties, poppin’ xanies
young n-gga, hundred grand for the gram
hot d-mn
hit the curb with the benz, swerve
rollie do no ticky, do the blingy,
i spending hundreds, all the fifties
word around the city i’m that n-ggy, but this month i made a milli
another month, another milli, man that sh-t be gettin’ silly
man, b-tch you looking silly
uh, why you broke? go get a check
uh, and when you fly, who need a jet?
she wanna move out to the west
she want them diamonds on her neck
and palm trees in the yard, wanna be’s with a star, huh?
and get the keys to the car huh
and wanna l!ck on every scar huh
my money good, sh-t we buying off the bar right now
right now
who got the weed right now, right now?

- chris brown tyga lyrics

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