Chris Brown
Real Hip Hop Shit
[Verse 1: Chris Brown]
Look, illest of the illest, I'm a sick soul
A little margarita blend, so I sip slow
Too talented type of n***a, I'm kinda schizo
But never out of my element, I let that fifth go
Shots in the club, panic at the disco
She of that MDMA, that's from Frisco
Hella chips, call me Mister Nabisco
Is that your bitch? 'Cause she won't let my go wrist go
My technique is to sex freaks
Skinnydip with hot models, bitches, and lesbies
I'ma put my tongue on they soul like a ESPY
But they don't know they scum to my soul, they just sexy
I'ma play dumb, play that role in the SV, it's ridiculous
And can I get a girl with real ass and tits?
Most respect in the world to my real n***as
'Cause all them fake n***as make me wanna kill n***as
I stand alone, fuck that gang bang shit
They Nintendo blowin' n***as 'cause this game ain't shit
Uh, it's relevant that I'm better than these veterans
They sleepin' on me like I been givin' them sedatives
Sometimes I wish I had better friends and better peers
'Cause I know when that cheddar ends, they disappear

[Interlude: Kevin McCall]
Damn, where they go?
Where they go? Where they go, huh?
[Verse 2: Kevin McCall]
See I'm doper than that shit Pookie was on in New Jack City
This is why I'm gettin' rich without tryin', I ain't like 50
'Cause what good is bein' rich if you dyin'? That shit is silly
Call the chain TLC, all the ice'll make you Chilli
I'm a pimp so you know I'm snatchin' your broad
I'm a real star, you Patrick from SpongeBob
L.A. my city to the streets, I'm Freeway Ricky
'Cause I keep the streets flooded with that crack music
I be sellin' CDs like them n***as push kilos
But I don't push weights unless it's plates in the weight room
Why you think I'm BUF? Blowin' Up Fast
Call me lead foot 'cause I be heavy on the gas
You would think I was a Spartan, three hundred on the dash
Either that or a martian in a space aircraft
'Cause when you see that whip that I have
You be like, "What the fuck was that?"