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Tyga - Fan of a Fan The Album Lyrics



Tyga - Fan of a Fan The Lyrics






Westside

[Tyga:]
100 thou, 3 kilos, my chain is illegal
My life a Tarantino, tomorrow you in the sequel
It's big dollars f*ckin with this big screen
Shouldn't got crazy on the side lately, turn it on screen
Kick it like dojo, know you used to the finer things
Raised from good homes, imagine how that pussy leak
Hood Mona Lis', model for me in that lingerie
Diamond covered rosary, say a prayer then I eat
Downtown penthouse in the city, sleep
All six bitches still high from last week
Back at it, the routine is automatic
They love my ass statics, I love they ass clappin
It's all sex, we do it the best on the west
And see I walk around like I got a S on my chest
As I long ordered, that bitch coming tomorrow
King shit, [?], who think [?], come on

[Hook - Chris Brown:]
I see you workin' that baby
You need to bring your ass to the Westside
Tonight we tryin' to freak some
Bring a friend, bring a friend, it's a threesome
So tell me girl what you drinking?
We gon' have a good time, it's a party
So bring your ass to the Westside

[Chris Brown:]
Look, Virginia nigga on a California king size
Pull your panties to the left, let it G slide
Bonnie & Clyde, ride or die
That's what you need right?
Her daddy OG, she grew up on the East Side
Bumpin' and humpin' like it's nothing, feel like a assmatic
69 her favorite, that's simple mathematics
And she can tell by my eyes I love that ass-clapping
A nigga looking surprised, she got my name tatted
She a fan, f*ck any nigga affiliated
Went from drug dealing to [?] graduated
But I deal with her, and let her think she made it
I'mma spend it all, shit I'm just playing baby
A 100k for the strippers, just me and my niggas
After that we party with bitches and sippin' on liquor
Inhalate them niggas, let them tats fly
That's how we do it on the Westside

[Hook]

[Chris Brown:]
You ready? Just give me a sign, girl
Cause that body looks amazing, girl
And I'm ready to give you the time of your life, baby
I think you deserve a change
Girl I'm falling in love tonight, my hand up your thigh
I see you don't give a f*ck tonight, girl show you right
Let's not waste our time, like it's a 9 to 5
Me and you, both together
Getting freaky on the Westside
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JESS REED JACKSON, CHRISTOPHER MAURICE BROWN, ESTEBAN CRANDLE, RASHARD JOHNSON, AARON ROGERS, MICHAEL STEVENSON, ANTWAN M THOMPSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, BMG Rights Management, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.






Nothin Like Me

[Hook - Chris Brown:]
She don't think that I can change
So I switched from a Benz to a Range
First class to the jet (yeah!)
Got more money than her ex
Way more money than her ex
And he ain't nothing like me, girl
I done showed you shit you never seen, girl
But he ain't nothing like me, girl

[Ty Dolla Sign:]
He complain about your spending
I hand you the card, tell you spend it
Master P, no limit
I let you do you, girl
He don't put no gas in your car, nah
We hit the lot and buy cars, girl
He f*ck you every blue moon
I hit it till the sun come up
That's why I f*ck with you girl
You ain't looking for no come up
Your nigga ain't about his money
He got zeros, I got commas
He buying drinks, I'm buying bottles
We pulling up on Forgiato's
All of my niggas got money
That nigga can't pull out a hundred

[Hook]

[Chris Brown:]
I ain't gone start shit
And a nigga ain't worried 'bout the homies
Twerk that shit on me from the front to the back
I know you got a nigga, don't lie
F*ck your boyfriend, not tonight
I'ma make you mine, all night
Damn I'm on your ass can't hide it
Cause all my girls that sing this shit don't want a broke nigga (no)
All they wanna do smoke and drink
And they know what I'm thinking
She choosing (choosing) to f*ck with a fly nigga
Your bitch about to change up
I'm the truth, you a lie, nigga

[Hook]

[Tyga:]
More money, most money
Marlon Wayans, tell them niggas ain't shit funny
Tight money, shit too private for your plane money
You coach money, I toast crimes loaf running
Rich nigga, Alpo, Rich Porter
I'm CEO, plus I f*cked his granddaughter
I do shit you think about on the toilet
My cup over-running, flowing like Fiji water
And my new bitch sorta like an alcoholic
Bitch my new car, call that bitch "whatchamacallit"
T-Raw (yeah) got pussy calling
OHB L-K, only balling
I came with the tooth filler
In case a nigga wanna score a round with me, nigga
True shit, trill nigga
Put down my hard hat, drill bitches, f*ck with me

[Hook x2]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Y, DIJON ISAIAH MCFARLANE
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.






Ayo

I need you
I need you
I need you
I need you
I need you
I need you (lemme see)
I need you
I need you

We poppin' like ayo
All my bitches got real hair chillin' with the top down
Screamin' like ayo
I'ma take her ass down when she bring her friend around
F*ck 'em both like ayo
I'm a bougie ass nigga, left the roof at home
We poppin' like ayo, ayo, ayo
But don't be actin' like I need you

Ha, ayy, babe, this my new shit
I'm the black Richie Rich with the roof missin'
If it don't make dollars, don't make sense
Z, wake up like I gotta get it
And I got a engine with a trunk space
I get money three ways, f*ckin' bitches three ways
Seven different foreigns, plus she no hablé
But I make that bitch walk for some cheesecake
Yeah, I'm the coldest nigga, icy
Lookin' in the mirror like I wish I could be me
She too into me, I'm more into money
My hobby's her body, that pussy's my lobby
I'ma eat it, I'ma eat it
I don't lie, hold my dick, too conceited
Uh, told her she's my wife for the weekend
But don't be actin' like I need you 'cause we poppin' like

Ayo
All my bitches got real hair chillin' with the top down
Screamin' like ayo
I'ma take her ass down when she bring her friend around
F*ck 'em both like ayo
I'm a bougie ass nigga, left the roof at home
We poppin' like ayo, ayo
We poppin' like ayo
But don't be actin' like I need you

I'm in the Rolls, you don't roll right
My chain shine brighter than a strobe light (yeah)
I'm tryna f*ck Coco, this don't concern Ice
If I motorboat, she gon' motorbike
A nigga ain't worried 'bout nothin'
Rehabilitation just had me worried 'bout f*ckin'
Money, decision-makin', only worried 'bout stuntin'
She worried about me, her nigga worried 'bout cuffin'
I wanna see her body (body)
Then she said, "Get inside of me
I wanna feel you, baby" (yeah)
Just bring the animal right out of me
We lovin', she love it
Especially when I go down on her
Now we f*ckin', she thuggin'
Gettin' loud ('cause we poppin' like)

Ayo
All my bitches got real hair chillin' with the top down
Screamin' like ayo
I'ma take her ass down when she bring her friend around
F*ck 'em both like ayo
I'm a bougie ass nigga, left the roof at home
We poppin' like ayo, ayo (huh, look)
We poppin' like ayo (alright)
But don't be actin' like I need you (now)

Now I can spot your bitch from a mile away
Valentine in that pussy, it's a holiday
Uh, you losin' money, I win mills, Dr. J
She gon' follow my lead, Simon Says
Paper, paper, I'm ridin' scrapers in California
Car smell like ammonia, we got that stank on us
Never been an Outkast, that stank on ya
From the ghetto but my bitch like Apollonia
We in the hood, tatted like a Mexican
Car too fast, give a f*ck about pedestrians
Uh, and my section less niggas, more lesbians
Got your bitch, I'm that nigga (yeah)

We poppin' like, ayo (ha, yeah)
All my bitches got real hair chillin' with the top down
Screamin' like ayo
I'ma take her ass down when she bring her friend around
F*ck 'em both like ayo
I'm a bougie ass nigga, left the roof at home
We poppin' like ayo, ayo, ayo
But don't be actin' like I need you

Yeah
This that fly shit (I need you)
King shit only
Drop top, no roof, ha
(I need you)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Michael Stevenson, Nicholas Matthew Balding, Christopher Maurice Brown, Mark Kragen, Jess Jackson
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Girl You Loud

[Intro - Tyga:]
Niggas won't ride for you, niggas won't die for you
Bitch I'll ride for you, niggas won't die for you
F*ckin' in the mornin', makin' love, f*ckin' in the mornin'
Wakin' up, f*ckin' in the mornin', niggas won't ride for you

[Hook x2 - Chris Brown:]
I'm 'bout to get up on that ass right now
Just love me, love me down, now
And you a smoker, I'ma roll up, you blow it down
One more, oh, oh, girl you loud

[Verse 1 - Tyga:]
I put that diamond in you, boo
Put on your favorite birthday suit
I hit them lights, we in the mood
I'ma slide inside and don't you move
Scorpio, sex drive for two
Who else you know would die for you?
Them niggas ain't livin' that shit
I showed you shit them niggas won't ever do
This year I do my thing
'Bout to put that def to shame
So high, eyes low
How you scream my name the only time you use in vain
But I swear this time no foreplay and games
Shoot it straight to your naval ring, put it back in, go again
Lookin' at this mess we made but I can't take the blame

[Pre-Hook - Both:]
This your bed, you lay in it
I'ma lick it up, girl gon' play with it
Taste so good, I put my face in it
Now she runnin' from the dick, I told her stay with it

[Hook x2]

[Verse 2 - Chris Brown:]
Yeah you are
Steppin' on my heart
You're so cold right now
And you tried to lay me down
But I'm not scared of death, girl
If I die, my love ain't gon' change
Cause we're in deep, hold your breath, girl
Baby I'm in so deep, and you just wanna be loud all night, girl

[Pre-Hook]

[Hook]

[Pre-Hook]

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JESS REED JACKSON, CHRISTOPHER MAURICE BROWN, CHRISTOPHER J GHOLSON, MICHAEL STEVENSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.






Remember Me

[Hook - Chris Brown (Tyga):]
Girl you know we got the time
Got that pussy on my mind
Later on, what are we doing?
I know you're ready, show that ass
Girl you looking so bad, getting horny watching you do it
Girl I wanna kiss it, while you kissin your girlfriends
I wanna see a whole lot of licking, that's a memory
(Yeah, bet I make that pussy remember me)

[Chris Brown:]
I be banging all on that beat
808, she got the bass when her booty shake
She got her friends with her and they a sight to see
All that ass, don't let it go to waste
All this Hennessy, the liquor, 'bout to penetrate
While I'm pushing Lamborghini's on the interstate
I long-dick her, I'ma go for hours
You minute-made like lemonade
I'm fresh as f*ck in these Margielas
I skate past a nigga better than veterans
Bipolar cold, give me the medicine
My chain too bright, no Thomas Edison
When I pull it out, bitch nervous
Better ride this wave - bitch, surf it
Girl, you better keep them legs open
The only thing you close is these curtains
And she only got time for a nigga if I take her out to eat
A nigga really gotta motivate
Man, that's too much work for the pussy
I don't work for the pussy, nigga really don't communicate
I'd rather lick it like a dinner plate
I'd rather keep my money in a safe
Bitch, I ain't got time to play
I need it now, not a minute late

[Hook]

[Tyga:]
Drive your head to a king, nigga
Dream house, my dream's bigger
Got a deck of cards if my heart switch up
Ace of spades, her eyes lit up
Diamonds glitter in my car, thriller
She pray for me, that's god willin
I'm hard to break my boss prison
Her new name : Ass-Zilla
She love a nigga and that pussy tight
Come thru, f*ck you all night
Some foreplay, that's all right
But she rather do number 69
High notes, it's prime time
On a couch, hit it from behind
Hit you with that large stroke
Now she fiendin' for that good dope, yeah
That's my bae, she cook and clean and I got it made
Handcuff like she a slave, touch ya, let ya tongue taste
So high, no ceiling space
Numb to it, can't feel her face
Yeah, she numb to it, can't feel her face

[Hook]

[Chris Brown:]
Blowing up my line on the cellular
She wanna lock a nigga down, on the regular
Talking crazy to me like she own the dick
But I don't trust her as far as I can throw the bitch
Momma told me to find a keeper
But I switch like designer sneakers
A girl with the finest features
Every nigga wanna talk to her
But I got her first, finders keepers
Violins in the back, is my theme music
Her ass on my mind, I dream booty
Any nigga tryna f*ck my bitch
Then its off with his head, how kings do it
My rings 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
Smokin' weed on the plane, that's the best high
She gotta sign the waiver 'fore I let her fly
It's helipads on the boat
Chilling in the South of France, Saint-Tropez, Nice, Monaco
But nothing compare to what's in my pants
Girl, stop playing!

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Anderson Hernandez, Jess Jackson, Matthew Samuels, Michael Stevenson, Allen Ritter, Christopher Brown
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Cloud9






I Bet

[Hook - Chris Brown:]
Shawty wanna leave with a nigga, I bet
Cause she wanna be on TV with a nigga, I bet
Bet you never thought that she would cheat on you, nigga, I bet
Don't be mad at me
I pull that chopper out and squeeze on you niggas
No sympathy for you niggas

[Verse 1 - Chris Brown:]
Ho, shut the f*ck up, miss me with the bullshit
Balling like a bitch, all my niggas hood rich
Bring some bitches to the crib, show 'em what the wood is
Your bitch look like shanayay, nah-uh, oh my goodness
It's 500, that be the block
Then you see that ghetto bird when you hear the shots
Where the plug at? Tell him meet me at the docks
Sent the little homie through, it might be the cops
Hold up, I'm getting money, boy
Your girl want me cause I got them toys
Rari's and the Bentleys and the bender doors
Double decker buses and them private jets I spend it on
Painted on the Maserati, look like it been shitted on
Make her lift her skirt up, if she nervous I'm a pervert
I be in the pussy deep, a nigga f*ckin' up her cervex
Leave the condoms on the bed, man, I do that shit on purpose
Cause I hope a nigga see it when he comin' home from work

[Hook]

[Verse 2 - Tyga:]
I got a hundred on it
She ain't faithful to you, nigga
Word around town, you know thots get around
Nah, she testify, wouldn't trust her, homie
I gave her f*ck what you know, makes no sense you, ho
Rolls gas pedals, Pockets on roseo
Rosetta, my stones ain't meant for the home, bitch
So comfortable, now get your ass off my couch, bitch
Bounce shit, mouse shit, put in your mouth shit
I've been playin' with the pussy, time to put that thing in
Bang it, I'm bangin', my binger off safety
I'm slayin', she chased it, she swallowed, she wasted
F*ckin' amazin', pump out that bass like freebasin'
It's a rough demonstration, the mileage, replace it
Come again, I replay it, speed it up, I'm speed racer
Bet if you catch her lyin' she gonna reverse it cause

[Hook]

[Verse 3 - 50 Cent:]
I bet your bitch'll be ready when I say I'm finna leave
We only f*ck with the foreigns, Ferrari horse on them keys
You be that nigga she call on when she need someone to love
I be that nigga, we just turn up, we just ball out n f*ck
After the thuggin' I be nuttin' in her mouth like this
And you come home like, honey, I'm home, come and give me kiss
It's not a thing for me, really not a thing for me
We from different sets, why your bitch wanna bang with me?
All the time, all the time, I be on the grind
Hoes look at me, the dollar signs run across they mind
It's the paper, they know a nigga get it, get it
Shawty gone be with it, let a nigga get it, hold up in it

[Hook]

[Outro:]
Ya'll bitchass niggas got me f*cked up. I'm not f*ckin' yall niggas. I don't give a f*ck who ya'll is. And I don't give a f*ck if you Chris Brown or Tyga. And ya'll not giving me my coin. I wanna be on TV, I wanna be on Love and Hip Hop, on Hollywood and shit. Don't get it f*cked up
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JESS REED JACKSON, CHRISTOPHER MAURICE BROWN, CURTIS JAMES JACKSON, PAULO RODRIGUEZ, MICHAEL STEVENSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC






D.G.I.F.U.

Ya'll know me, the still same OG, young T-Y-G
Hated on by most these niggas
But I still keep shittin' on niggas lowkey
I don't f*ck with you to the third degree
I keep it G, damn G you owe us three
Schemin' on the low, tryna make a nigga profit-ly
All I do is get money, f*ck, and sleep
I should run for mayor
Been runnin' shit, you barely maintainin', bitch
No, this ain't no less regular shit
Break a neck on some Busta shit
Soulja, Memphis shit
I be on til infinity
Don't predict, bitch, what I'm gonna do
'Cause chances are I've outdone you
And most of my so called enemies
Spit your game, talk your shit
Grab your gat, call your clique
Ball so hard I don't need the assist
I'm the best I keep sayin' that shit
Nigga, you should too
If you knew what this game will do to you
Look at bullshit that I've been through
This the drive through and shit on you

Don't get it f*cked up
Yesterday was the freshest nigga in America
I swear to God I ain't lyin' bruh, I ain't lyin' bruh
In America
Don't get it f*cked up
Niggas talkin' bout oh shit
I pull up they like oh shit
Now look whose talkin', bitch
Now look whose talkin', bitch, yeah
Don't get it f*cked up
I do this shit for my, I do this shit for my
Do this shit for my loved ones
Don't get it f*cked up
I do this shit for my, I do this shit for my
I don't trust niggas, I only trust funds nigga

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say
But nothin' comes out when they move they lips
This extended clip will make Buddha shit
Shawty callin' me, pullin' up with them hooter tits
Never use a nigga, but she abuse the dick
I lick the pussy let the air dry
We in a boat, nigga, right off the coast
European or Caribbean, I'm sweatin' out my hair dye
So don't get it f*cked up
I got a handful of matches, f*ckin' with a bad bitch
All my niggas is savages, better loc up
Damn it's a tragedy, all of these casualties
Metal through his body, nigga, check his anatomy, oh shit
Why you pillow talkin'? That's ho shit
Nigga, you a geek, still talkin' 'bout me f*cking yo' bitch
I can't lie, can't lie
I got a bunch of bad hoes and a wife on the side
I believe I can fly, I'm the shit now
Wanna be like Mike when I die
Step right up, can't name any nigga that can f*ck with us
I'mma bring the pain, we gon' be the game-changers
All in your face, I'm bustin' nuts

Don't get it f*cked up
Yesterday was the freshest nigga in America
I swear to God I ain't lyin' bruh, I ain't lyin' bruh
In America
Don't get it f*cked up
Niggas talkin' bout oh shit
I pull up they like oh shit
Now look whose talkin', bitch
Now look whose talkin', bitch, yeah
Don't get it f*cked up
I do this shit for my, I do this shit for my
Do this shit for my loved ones
Don't get it f*cked up
I do this shit for my, I do this shit for my
I don't trust niggas, I only trust funds nigga

Did ya'll think I would let my dough freeze?
Ho, please! Better bow down on both knees
Who you think taught you to throw P's?
Who you think taught you to rap keys?
Dress Dreez, Phillip Limb, SLP's
Like Snoop D-O-double G
Nigga murda was the case so motherf*ck the police
Ya'll niggas soft like Emojis, with the heart eyes
Ya'll part skies, ya'll cloud killas
We aimin' niggas, my soldiers blacker than apartheid
We coupe niggas, you niggas riding four doors
Like Uber nigga, we pilin' all of your whores
On the canopy my stamina be
Enough for Pamela Anderson Lee
My Katy Perry ain't afraid to carry
That shit you sniff, Taylor Swift
Niggas talk yet it remains a myth
I never seen it, they only dream it
They rap about it, do interviews
With they toy cars and they little jewels

Don't get it f*cked up
Yesterday was the freshest nigga in America
I swear to God I ain't lyin' bruh, I ain't lyin' bruh
In America
Don't get it f*cked up
Niggas talkin' bout oh shit
I pull up they like oh shit
Now look whose talkin', bitch
Now look whose talkin', bitch, yeah
Don't get it f*cked up
I do this shit for my, I do this shit for my
Do this shit for my loved ones
Don't get it f*cked up
I do this shit for my, I do this shit for my
I don't trust niggas, I only trust funds nigga
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher






Better

[Verse 1 - Tyga:]
I love women and power, we used to sit and talk for hours
On the balcony, my condo play your favorite, shawty
No love lost, just the perfect soulmate, that's all
It's my fault, caught in a rupture
Should've been you I was touchin', I knew it wasn't
My ego, I was buzzin' but not how you wanted
Too busy tryna flaunt it, like I just bought it
You know them bitches 'round you can't hold water
This s'posed to be our moment
These pills set it, I'm feelin' better
Called you to tell you I love you
But you too busy with some other shit, I'm guessin'
No texts, no proof, no voice messages
How we become enemies so effortless?
Or was I blind when you was naked?
Or high when you was level
Know time is of the essence
No lie, I live and regret it
Decisions I made, embedded in my mind
Hate to admit it, but I gotta say it one time

[Hook - Chris Brown:]
Should've treated you right
But every night I was livin' life in the fast lane
I should've put my focus on you
In the club every night
I just get it wrong when you do right
And I keep just fillin' your head with the lies
This shit comes with a price
A nigga should've loved you better
A nigga should've loved you better
A nigga should've loved you better
A nigga should've loved you

[Verse 2 - Chris Brown:]
What happened to me, babe?
This ain't who you fell in love with
You say you need space
Don't do this
Just look at me, one more time
I know I f*cked up but I'm tryin' to please you
I'ma give you all
And your heartache and pain's gonna stop
Baby right here
Don't walk away
There is no one left to call
Don't wanna be alone when you disappear
I know I hurt you more than three times
Now you need me time
F*ck I'm s'posed to do in the meantime?
Then she told me "figure it out"

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: VANESSA BROWN
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC






Lights Out

[Verse 1 - Chris Brown:]
Girl just come home with me
You in the passenger side when I'm drivin'
Girl you kissin' all on me
Lickin' my neck when my hand's on your thigh
And I'm makin' that pussy leak
Knowin' just what you want
Cause you ain't had dick in a week
And I know that you're a freak

[Pre-Hook - Chris Brown:]
Girl I know you're down for playin'
I know you're listenin' to what I'm sayin'
Your body done started up this conversation
We should really take this inside, when I'm inside
Girl, let's get it

[Hook - Chris Brown:]
We party all night, then you leave in the mornin'
Girl when you ride it, act like you're performin'
You a bad mothaf*cka, you the shit right now
Play your position, we switchin' positions, lights out

[Verse 2 - Chris Brown:]
Girl I'm 'bout to [?] and I'ma eat it on the floor
You'll see what you mean to me but first I need you on all fours
Now ass up, face down, when we're lovin'
Slow motion, in and out
Girl when you rain, I'ma break you off
Really need to take them panties off
Your body on my body, drippin' wet, baby
Lickin' on it got my dick way too hard
Girl I'm just in it explorin'
I got the camera recordin'
Makin' that pussy too soft and
You get it again in the mornin'

[Pre-Hook]
[Hook]

[Verse 3 - Tyga:]
Drop funds on some new shit right now
I ain't talkin' yesterday, I mean right now
New Audemars for you and this lifestyle
Lingerie on, got you all wified down
Where you wanna be right now?
Ride on my top, now you all on my top
What you wanna be right now?
Got you all in my palms and that ass is the bomb
Versatile, got your Versace on
Fur, on the couch, lips soft, fresh out the shower
25th hour, eat it like [?] chow
Lick it down, yeah, use your mouth
Light up a blunt and we're zoned to the mornin'
Back to the sex and performin'
This time I'ma make sure it's recordin'
(When I take you down, down)

[Verse 4 - Fat Trel:]
Called me on the phone and she opened up the door
I be skippin' all the kissin', get to hittin' it on the floor
Take it to the kitchen, so many different positions
F*ck her real slow, she talkin', I like to listen
On the roll with it, she don't like to pay attention
All this money on my mind but the pussy what I'm missin'
Skip the penitentiary, I'm [?] whipped
Sneakin', we freakin', no sleep on the weekend
But I just wanna hit it by the lake
From the back, from the front while I'm grippin' on her face
I just wanna give her what you can't
Fly her all around the world, poppin' bottles of the Ace
I just wanna take her to the bank
Shoppin' trip, what you get? DC, LA
I should let her meet CB, he a freak
She could give my young nigga what he needs

[Pre-Hook]
[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: SHAWN CARTER, KASSEEM DEAN, JOHN JACKSON, LEXUS LEWIS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management






Real One

Yeah
I don't give a f*ck about ya nigga, baby
That nigga weak

Aye baby, you baby
That's some good pussy we can make a new baby
F*ck you in the Maybach, f*ck a room baby
I use my tongue, use your mouth, watch your tooth baby
Dick ain't proper got a lot of bodies
And the house game Hilton, got a lot of lobbies
Bitches overnight it, what you know 'bout it?
T-Raww whip out, tap out

I got 'em all hooked like drugs
And all them tryin' to f*ck with a young nigga
Pulled up to the club like what
Straight to V.I.P
Double cuppin' I stay too turned up
'Cause we poppin' bottles in here
Baby I'm just tryin' to party, yeah
'Cause I'm the man of the year

I'm tryin' to get a little buzz
Party poppin' and a nigga spendin' money
Hope I get f*cked up
I see your girl lookin' over, at me
She wanna turn up
I can tell by the look in her face
That she ain't happy with you, nigga
And I can bet that I'm gon' get her
And I don't
I don't really care if (I don't care bout you nigga baby)
If you gotta man (that nigga weak) 'cause
You over there starin' (I see you starin' at a nigga babe)
At me, at me, yeah
I guess your nigga too lame, huh?
Girl I bet you want a real one, yeah
You want a real one, yeah
You want a real one

Girl I know you wanna jump up on it right there, right there
'Cause everybody in the club gettin' faded
A hundred thousand dollar tab, I'mma pay it
Girl the party's jumpin', DJ's bumpin' my shit, oh yeah
Got everybody in the club lookin' at us
I'm at the top I just climbed up the ladder, real shit
Girl you givin' me the screw face
I know them bitches hatin' you, yeah they two-faced
I know he told you not to drink but what do you say?
I know he tryin' to lock you down like me and Boosie
F*ck that nigga, my middle finger up
F*ck a rap nigga, you just want a singer, huh?
I'm with this shit and you love it
Go on and twerk some for me

I'm tryin' to get a little buzz
Party poppin' and a nigga spendin' money
Hope I get f*cked up
I see your girl lookin' over, at me
She wanna turn up
I can tell by the look in her face
That she ain't happy with you, nigga
And I can bet that I'm gon' get her
And I don't (I don')
I don't really care if (I don't care bout you nigga baby)
If you gotta man (that nigga weak) 'cause
You over there starin' (I see you starin' at a nigga babe)
At me, at me, yeah
I guess your nigga too lame, huh?
Girl I bet you want a real one, yeah
You want a real one, yeah
You want a real one

Turn, turn, turn, turn up
Stop stuntin' that nigga
We straight I got more money than that nigga
She ain't loyal 'cause he ain't me
Go to jail she gon' need me like girls get me
She want a real one, oh she want some
Look at all this money over here, she want some
She ain't thirsty
But when you that bad every chick need bags and purses
Scorpio says girl my tongue on her
Meet me all day we just press record
Ten million in two months, God bless me girl
You over there starin', next to me girl
Them hotties is flockin' it's three in the mornin'
Them bodies is poppin' she's feelin' the moment
She gotta man, I ain't worried about that
Got a lotta, got a lotta, got a lotta respect

I don't really care if (I don't care bout you nigga baby)
If you gotta man (that nigga weak) 'cause
You over there starin' (I see you starin' at a nigga babe)
At me, at me, yeah
I guess your nigga too lame, huh?
Girl I bet you want a real one, yeah
You want a real one, yeah
You want a real one

Baby I don't really care if (I don't care bout you nigga baby)
If you gotta man (that nigga weak) 'cause
You over there starin' (I see you starin' at a nigga babe)
At me, at me, yeah
I guess your nigga too lame, huh?
Girl I bet you want a real one
You want a real one
You want a real one
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHRISTOPHER MAURICE BROWN, DAVID DORMAN, JAMES STEWART, JESS REED JACKSON, MICHAEL STEVENSON, TORENCE HATCH
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, The Administration MP, Inc., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Bitches N Marijuana

[Chorus - Chris Brown:]
You can tell by the way I walk that I got 'em
Bail any girl that I wanna
Got bitches n marijuana
I can tell by the way you move that you a problem
Bail any girl that I wanna
Got bitches n marijuana
I got 'em, I got 'em
Ooh, she bad, she don't do it for free
I got em, I got em
Got bitches n marijuana

[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, talk to me
That body cold, chess game like a pawn 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 bitch in Jacuzzi
Right, nigga, gettin' right, nigga
I'ma knock that pussy out, fight night, nigga
I'mma light it up, pass it to the right nigga
Our bitches at the crib, don't invite niggas

[Chorus]

[Chris Brown:]
Pull up, got the fat sack
With some clean motherf*ckers, no hood rats
Yeah we suited and booted, you know your bitch 'bout to toot it
She want love from a nigga, that's a heart attack, Yack!
Loud pack, give me all of that
Don't be sending naked pics cause my phone tapped
Black Mas, duffel bag and a hundred racks
I don't snitch but I could show you where the money at, me nigga
It's right here
Got girls and they all on my lap, they with me nigga
Hell yeah
You see the Lambo parked in the trap, that's me nigga
I own it while you living on a lease nigga
I'm known to keep my bitches on a leash nigga
I smoke it by the pound what you talking 'bout
I dick your bitch down then I walk it out

[Chorus]

[ScHoolboy Q:]
Grimy nigga way too groovy for the Grammys
Overseas collecting panties, poppin' Xanies
Young nigga, hundred grand for the gram, hot damn
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 nigg-y
But this month I made a milli
Another month, another milli, man that shit be gettin' silly
Man, bitch you looking silly
Why you broke, go get a check
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
And get the keys to the car huh
And wanna lick on every scar huh
My money good, shit we buying off the bar right now, right now
Who got the weed right now, right now

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Christopher Maurice Brown, Mark Kragen, Michael Stevenson, Nicholas Matthew Balding
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.






She Goin Up

Now usually I don't do this
But a nigga wanna trip so I'ma take a nigga's bitch
Yeah, got 200 on the dash
A couple hundreds in my pocket but my credit card rich
Every night is somethin' different
I started poppin' pills with no prescription
24/7 On a mission I'm the man with these bitches
If you watchin', pay attention
You shoulda left her in the kitchen
Now she cookin' up my mama's favorite dishes
She used to kiss it for you, now she swallow me
Now she missin', got your nigga reminiscin'
Why you textin'? She complainin', you be stressin'
With your weak ass cuffin', said she feel like she arrested
I told her, "do better", said she's open for suggestions
I said, come over to the crib and put your panties on my dresser
And I don't really care
I know shit gon' hit the fan like a booty in the air
I'm with her, f*ckin' up the sheets now
If your nigga bring his ass over here he gettin' beat down
Pause, nigga don't act like we boys
I bought a strap from a d-boy, my trap house got three floors
Better not f*ck around with me, boy
That bullet wound gonna keloid, why you mad, nigga?

Got your girl goin' up, goin' up right now
She be rockin' diamonds, f*ckin' with designer
Red bottoms up right now
Got a nigga mad 'cause she seen your bitch chose up
Not you, made her life, brand new
She actin', brand new
Got your girl goin' up, she goin' up right now

Pussy open, yours two doors
Legs up like Aventador
Raw nigga to the core
Money long, boy broke niggas gon' snore
And I'm fresh out the store, I just
Bought it 'cause I'm bored
All up on the news in my new girl couture
They don't sell that at Nordstroms, imported, important
Tax out the border, the cash flow enormous
Dubai and endorsements, sources and foursomes
Got a bad bitch, so she torn, I got money on my lap yeah
Pistol on my back yeah, steaks on my tab
F*ck you know about that? 500 Hundred on the Lamb'yeah
Goin' up, yeah, I'm pourin' up uh
She took too much, now she throwin' up
Came out the top and I'm blazin'
Worldwide, nigga, it's amazin'

Got your girl goin' up, goin' up right now
She be rockin' diamonds, f*ckin' with designer
Red bottoms up right now
Got a nigga mad 'cause she seen your bitch chose up
Not you, made her life, brand new
She actin', brand new
Got your girl goin' up, she goin' up right now

Screamin' loud, they gon' call the popos on us
She puttin' shit up her nose, she in love with the coco
Dámelo, that ass goin' loco
And I ain't gon' interrupt her dancin'
'Cause she turnin' up right now
Do your thing, we gon' party all night long, baby
I'ma do what he won't do
I bet he won't sing to you
He don't even got a ring for you
I got you, girl
I'ma make you hit them notes
Uh, uh
When I'm in and out, baby don't let go (yeah)

Yeah yeah

Got your girl goin' up, goin' up right now
She be rockin' diamonds, f*ckin' with designer
Red bottoms up right now
Got a nigga mad 'cause she seen your bitch chose up
Not you, made her life, brand new
She actin', brand new
Got your girl goin' up, she goin' up right now
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JESS REED JACKSON, CHRISTOPHER MAURICE BROWN, JUSTIN SCOTT FRANKS, MICHAEL STEVENSON, BOBBY TURNER
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.






Wrong In The Right Way

[Hook - Chris Brown:]
It's 'bout to go down
Baby, you gonna get your wish tonight
Lay it down, right here
Scream my name, baby I love you
Wherever you are, I'll be right by your side tonight
If you wearing panties taking 'em of, yeah
Imma do it wrong in the right way.

[Chris Brown:]
(Okay, haha, look)
Now, Imma do you wrong in the right way
F*cking with the lights on, know you had a long day
Hold your nigga down, girl I f*ck with you the long way
Pull up to your college, then I f*ck you in the hard way
Real nigga, all day
You know I don't f*ck with fakes.
Said she on her period, she told me just to f*ck her face
Real bitch, trill bitch, someone I can deal with
[?] try to run up my crib, she hit the kill switch
She would never let me down, only want to lift me up
When I got like 90 counting, she was there to pick me up
Mind her business, know what's up
Purple sprite, she pour it up
Even bought a pound for a nigga, 'bout to roll it up
If the lights off in the club, niggas still know it's up
Gave my bitch my Lamborghini, nigga get your motor up
When I get that ass in my bed, Imma [?]
[?] leg stroking, got the whole bed soaking

[Hook]

[Tyga:]
You got that work, that pussy pur
That Lambo [?], she got it for sure
My Chaufer know what's up, it's yours
I mean hers, she can conquer
Baddest thing on this Earth
Let me take my time, Imma lick you first
Imma make it hurt, put it in the dirt
That's some crazy ass shit for ya
And you know I got this hit for you, put this dick on ya
Enjoy ya and I spoil ya
Back and forth, in and out no backing off
My shit don't [?], My lover lover real don't dissolve
Bitches ain't loyal, one love
But they hot and cold,
I slurp this deuce on the , baby like this dick cold
T-Raw got that flame doe
She want burgers in Burdeos, I give her that 'cus she's mine doe
In this game you gotta [?]
I'm young, the king so you know how it is doe

[Hook]

[Chris Brown:]
(Look, haha, alright)
Let me kiss that body, when I get excited
When you scream my name, when you the notes
You gon' sound melodic
Baby girl just ride it
Show me something they can't see
F*ck me like you angry, playing all that Casey and (JoJo)
Them slow jams, we hold hands
You do that there like a stripper, on my dick she pole dance
(Oh no)
It's going down, going down babe
Put it in reverse, flip it around babe
Yeah, 'cause we one on one
Busting 'round, acting round like a gun
Doing all that freaky shit to me
I love the way you put it down babe
I'd like it, when I'm in and out and you making them sounds babe
And I want some more, it's about to go down.

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: O'KELLY ISLEY, CHRISTOPHER JASPER, MICHAEL STEVENSON, ERNIE ISLEY, RUDOLPH ISLEY, RONALD ISLEY, MARVIN ISLEY, CHRIS BROWN, MICHAEL HERNANDEZ, SCOTT STORCH, RICO EVANS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC






Bunkin

Yeah, my bitch she bunkin'
She went from nothing now she somthing
My bitch bunkin'
She only clap that ass for me
My bitch bunkin'
I taught her how to whip a key
Now my trap jumpin'
She bring that dough to me how I want it
In fifties, hundreds, all that
Money is money, my nigga
Even small stacks
We on right now, so you may have to wait, my nigga
I throw that cash in the air
This shit feel great, my nigga

(I don't know if you know how it feel
To ride down Sunset, watching the sunset
California, Los Angeles nigga, what's happenin' though?)
My bitch grind
My boo not know I'm thugging, from the Slums
She know I'm in the streets, she hold my guns
Ain't seen my P.O. in weeks
F*ck it months
Told her hold my spot down I'm on the run
I got my motherf*cking J's on
Finna hit Arkansas get these OXYs off
Come back to L.A., fight my case
Where I'm from it's bang or ball
F*cking bitches like yo misses
Flip em' like the case of raw
Back to business flipping digits
Splitting switches with my niggas
Came from nothing, from nothing to something
Know my struggle, my momma know I'm thugging
Coming out the county jail smell like public
Yo momma love it, got your main bitch
On my side on time, nigga my bitch she bunkin'

She went from nothing now she somthing
My bitch bunkin'
She only clap that ass for me
My bitch bunkin'
I taught her how to whip a key
Now my trap jumpin'
She bring that dough to me how I want it
In fifties, hundreds, all that
Money is money, my nigga
Even small stacks
We on right now, so you may have to wait, my nigga
I throw that cash in the air
This shit feel great, my nigga

Now don't it feel great
When you ride through the hood when you known as Bill Gates
With a super bad bitch in a drop Lamborghini
Make a home girl hate
Just a trap nigga known to have a quarter-mill a day
Living proof that selling drugs on the corner still pay
I make a hundred Gs, spend 40 on ki's
Put the rest away just in case I caught a real case
And I ain't gon' stop
Teaching you the shit that you ain't know about
From aside when I rhymed thinkin' ain't no Glock
Stop cuffing that bitch, like she ain't no thot
Racks on the air, think it ain't gonna drop
Even if not, bet the brain on fire
Nigga 14 years I remain on fire
Men with me too, but the game don't lie
Still up to the same old shit
Bang on the pussy nigga they ain't know shit
Stop playing with the pussy you know you dont want this
Shot the f*ck down or yo ass gon get it
In public, it's nothing
I'm right back in my bucket
Ain't what you do it's how you does it and we does it cuzin

Yeah, my bitch she bunkin'
She went from nothing now she somthing
My bitch bunkin'
She only clap that ass for me
My bitch bunkin'
I taught her how to whip a key
Now my trap jumpin'
She bring that dough to me how I want it
In fifties, hundreds, all that
Money is money, my nigga
Even small stacks
We on right now, so you may have to wait, my nigga
I throw that cash in the air
This shit feel great, my nigga

Make me harder, miss your daughter
She just wanna lay and party
Be my naughty girl in college
F*ck you all the time, I'm tired
Wake up on it, this that early morning tap that wet, wet
You know a nigga love breakfast, Imma bite that
Got money in the mattress, where I hide it at
Counting all of that, f*ck all them other niggas
They don't know what to do with all that
That's a matter fact, get on my lap
Put you on the map, took you out the trap
From my condo to a large estate, got double gates
If I catch a case would you wait on me
And build me up again, if so

Yeah my niggas thuggin'
Poppin' rubber-bands
Money in my hand, double cuppin'
With that Sprite mix it with Zan
We some Zombies here to tonight, slow motion yo bitch choosin'
She said "don't they call you Breezy?"
I told that bitch "I'm coolin'"
100 million dollars, got a hundred on my chain
She got a million dollar body, with a hundred dollar brain
Yeah your booty like a pumpkin

And my bitch she be bunkin'

My bitch she bunkin'
She went from nothing now she somthing
My bitch bunkin'
She only clap that ass for me
My bitch bunkin'
I taught her how to whip a key
Now my trap jumpin'
She bring that dough to me how I want it
In fifties, hundreds, all that
Money is money, my nigga
Even small stacks
We on right now, so you may have to wait, my nigga
I throw that cash in the air
This shit feel great, my nigga
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHRISTOPHER MAURICE BROWN, CLIFFORD JOSEPH HARRIS, DAVID DORMAN, JAMES STEWART, JAY CUMMINGS, JESS REED JACKSON, MICHAEL STEVENSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Banjo

Holla

Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
And all the hoes in the party hit the dance floor

Pull up, nigga creeping
Colder than a motherf*cker, guess it's ho season (bitch)
Shorty got that ass, baby girl it's nice to meet you
With these lights off, give a f*ck about your features
I'm tryna f*ck
If it's one on one gimme that eye soap
But if it's two of ya'll I'ma let the dice roll
It's the weekend, I could tell you been freaking
'Cause you popping Miley Cyrus and you twerking with your eyes closed
Go figure, skinny nigga with a suit on
Bunch of bad bitches, yeah, they like me nigga, who don't?
Drop top, everything
We party like the roof gone
A nigga got a problem, blaka-blaka, then we move on (blap)
Tell 'em hold that
If you looking for liquor, better lick up
My liquor zing and you know that
Bitches looking for a sponsorship, cha-ching
'Cause I sponsor shit, bitch I throw racks
F*cked up, got me dancing on the floor
Tryna dance in that pussy, tell me when to go
I'm tore up, feeling like I'm 'bout to throw up
One night with me this bitch about to blow up

Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
And all the hoes in the party hit the dance floor

Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
And all the hoes in the party hit the dance floor

Ain't shit but model bitches over here
I'm a nigga with money bitch, let's make that clear
You here with a Elf ear
Hoes in stock over here
And the price going up by the year
It's a good year, baby
On my blimp shit
You too defensive and sensitive
That's on some mental shit
No sense in lingering
Can't count on you niggas man
Only count Benjamins, yeah
He my closest friend
My wrist a wrist
Ice the bitch
Like it's sprained and shit
I'm the nigga, nigga yes he is
The flyest with three yes' is
I take that pussy and ransom it (Mel Gibson, damn)
When I hit the block, better have your banger
That's ma babe, she don't talk too strange
She fold it close, we ain't gon' ever hang
Beat the box like banana bang
Banana bang, banana bang bang-bang

Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
And all the hoes in the party hit the dance floor

Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
And all the hoes in the party hit the dance floor

She was bomb but she wanted me to pay for it
Alley-oop bitch, you know a nigga play whores
I play with pussy, girl you know that I'm a playboy
Clap, clap, clap then she make that booty make noise
She make that ass wobble like a monster
Twerk something, hurt something, damn, I'ma need a doctor
A bitch with some real hair straight up out the projects
And she turn her phone off from all them niggas she be dodging
She ain't low about her head
She don't give a f*ck about nothing but her bread
But when I dance in that pussy do the running man
While all these other niggas f*cking with Juwanna Man
I'm throwing all of this money and I'm advancing these strippers
I got my hand on the pussy she got her hand on my zipper
She started going to work my shit got hard as a missile
Then she say she got a twin, I started f*cking her sister

Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
And all the hoes in the party hit the dance floor

Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
Man, don't play with the pussy like a banjo
And all the hoes in the party hit the dance floor
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Mikely Wilhelm Adam, Jess Reed Jackson, Dijon Isaiah Mcfarlane, Christopher Maurice Brown, Cid Eduardo Meireles, Michael Stevenson, Robert Moses Turner
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.






Its Yo Shit

Ain't my shit
That's yo shit
Yeah

Baby tell me if you're ready
Ready for the real thing
You got them lined up around your flower
But you need the real man
And if I get the chance I'mma ask you
When's the last time you've been satisfied
Give me a chance and I'mma show
That I ain't even like them other guys
I'mma a way to be, before I try to kiss you
I do it different than them other guys
I know they be tripping
I know what you want
So let's get right out of here
Let's go baby
I'm counting all my blessing tonight

You saying all the right shit
Well girl I like it
I'm going to make this night romantic
I'm going to love you baby
And I know what you've been dreaming about (I know)
I'm gonna' take advantage of you
It's yo shit, it's yo shit
(Oh the way you put it on me) it's yo shit (I like it)
It's yo shit (ooh baby)
Come on and take advantage of it (it's yo shit)

Sex on the dresser legs on the leather
Do it so good I might let you rub my necklace
We f*cking to record just for the record
Nickname Alexis but you don't push a Lexus'
We are no ordinary shit
Southern part of Euro spending Euros at the cash
Checks waiting when I land that's money in advanced
Benjamin talk frankly you don't understand (me)
My repertoire upper echelon you should tag along
Is your cousin far?
What we doing here and speaking ?
Raw, f*ck you hard
I'm a midnight star David, son of God
When you see the headlights like a fallen star
Yacht no barge looking like a boss
Got a hater so blue liker Marge

You saying all the right shit
Well girl I like it
I'm going to make this night romantic
I'm gonna like you baby
And I know what you've been dreaming about
Go and take advantage of it
It's yo shit
(Oh the way you put it on me) it's yo shit
It's yo shit (ooh baby)
Come on and take advantage of it (it's yo shit)

It's yo shit, it's yo shit
A dope nigga, we be ballin'
I'm dope yes I know this
The word is my third leg a boflex
Time to have sex
Climb beside a giant ? Nice dress
I'm dipping in the 362 with the 57
Soon as she get up in it she put the flip on the zipper
I'm different with it
I can tickle your kidney with it
? With trash
No kickin' kick it with kitty litter
'Cause seein' me ? The DMV of course
Hit the streets guarantee the women abroad
Ever blue moon, 'cause ? For sure
Got a bling look in the ring like Billie Jean Porsche, oww
This that Mike Jack flow
I'mma bite that spike then lighten up

You saying all the right shit
Well girl I like it
I'm going to make this night romantic
I'm gonna like you baby
And I know what you've been dreaming about
Come and take advantage of it
It's yo shit
(Oh the way you put it on me) it's yo shit
It's yo shit (ooh baby)
Come on and take advantage of it (it's yo shit)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHRISTOPHER BROWN, MELVIN II HOUGH, MICHEAL STEVENSON, OLUBOWALE AKINTIMEHIN, RIVELINO RAOUL WOUTER
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.






Back to: Tyga


Fan of a Fan: The Album is a collaborative album by American singer Chris Brown and American rapper Tyga, billed together as Chris Brown X Tyga and was released on February 20, 2015, by RCA Records, along with affiliated record labels; including CBE Records, Last Kings Records, Young Money Entertainment, Cash Money Records and Republic Records. The album served as the sequel to their breakout mixtape Fan of a Fan (2010).

A West Coast hip hop album with glimpses of R&B, Fan of a Fan: The Album focuses on gangsta rap themes. The album debuted at number seven on the US Billboard 200 and received mixed reviews from critics.
Performed By: Tyga
Genre(s): West Coast hip hop, R&B
Producer(s): DJ Mustard, Jess Jackson, Nic Nac, Mel & Mus, P-Lo, Drumma Boy, Scott Storch, DJ Frank E, The MeKanics, David D.A. Doman, The Breed, Mark Kragen, Vinylz, Boi-1da, Mike Free
Length: 48:24
Released: February 20th, 2015
Year: 2015

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