Chris Brown - Real Hip Hop Shit 3 lyrics

rate me

Leather jacket, relaxing

The movie scenes I’m acting

These rappers practice

I’m at the plate, enough to bat bitch

Fully smoking locomotive, nigga, f-ck an adlib

In the club celebrating cause I’m self promoted

Is it a fire? Cause the crowd smoking!

Big Will, she off a pill: rollin'

You know a country nigga hungry

Waffle house? Open!

But they too broke to pay their bills

So they’re freeloading

But it’s cool, sit down

You know that nigga rich?

Girl his name: Chris Brown!

His chain’s so ugly that it makes a bitch frown

I’m serving all these niggas

But who ordered hash browns?

Nigga, I be like: yeah I got the check

And I just paid your bills, so yes

I want some sex

Hah! But first, can I kiss your neck?

And I’mma work you out

So you ain’t gotta stretch.

Hold up! Let me slow up

Impregnate your beat, I make that bitch blow up

I eat all I can eat

Until a nigga throw up

I tell that DJ “ay! Pull up, pull up”

Man, I’m so sick of these lame motherf-ckas

A nigga’s still shitting on the game, motherf-cka

Old niggas as the world change, muthaf-ckas

Y’all niggas still being the same muthaf-cka?

Who else, dawg?

Look, let me go in, then I count more ends

My tints 11, and your friends in my Benz

The engine on that Viper 220

And it’s green in the trunk, but that’s new money

Watch: Frank Mueller, my Ruger

Cut that shit – fire. I just shot my jeweler!

Another hundred racks just to make my chain a cooler

Off that Four Loco, out of my medulla

Wow! I be seeing dead people

Dead prezzies my besties

Nigga, we are not equal

How you get the big picture

Looking from a peephole?

My real niggas in the back, but

“He ain’t talking to me tho!”

I know you mad cause I afford it

TMZ, I’m wiping my ass, so stop recording

Supposedly a singer, can’t do hip-hop,

But I just killed this shit,

so let the shit rock!

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Thanks to adrianna