ฟังเพลงLike Whaaat (feat. Wiz Khalifa, Tyga, Chris Brown & Master P) (Remix) (Explicit) (Remix|Explicit)

Like Whaaat(feat. Wiz Khalifa, Tyga, Chris Brown & Master P) (Remix|Explicit) - Chris Brown/Problem/Tyga/Master p

Who dat talking 'bout who dat

Run up on me you get your a*s beat blue black

Go on get nerve I'm off the curb

Push mountains of herb you n***as already heard

The bro Berg keep a pistol

Gripped pump on his lap at all time

Whatever however 'cause young n***as stay trying

See them and be like huh n***a what

Huh give a f**k like whaat

Hell yeah this the remix

These b***hes comin' harder than cement

They can not

Put the blow to they nose no Kleenex

Shining like the sun no Phoenix

Diamond Lane gang wear it big no 3X free Miller

You gangbangin' foolie chucker

More n***as still good on the block Timmy Duncan

Knocking n***as out they style like a f**king 50 dumpin'

Labels can't advance me

That Cali n***a that got Diddy dancing problem

Yeah I'm just doing my thang fingers in the sky

Banging my gang like uh

Go on fall back 'cause you don't want no problems like that

'Cause we gonna be like huh n***a what

Huh give a f**k n***a whaat

Huh n***a what

Huh give a f**k n***a whaat

What's smackin 30 under 30

I'm a young rich black man black man oh

What's happening

No it ain't Taylor less' my hands is in

Grands I'mma spend grams put them in

Seen that Bombay ran from the gin

Staying low key still they know me

Smoking OG and I blow it by the O-Z

We faded ho please

I'm getting stupid high me and P-R-O-B

My J's super old Rick Owens no sleeves

We at the after-party you can bring you own w**d

And We gon' take shots until someone has to drive us home

Come from a place where they do tote that chrome

Smile on they face but ain't nothing a game

Stacking that paper don't get in their way

Or Rat-tat-tat

I'm just doing my thang fingers in the sky

Banging my gang like uh

Go on fall back 'cause you don't want no problems like that

'Cause we gonna be like huh n***a what

Huh give a f**k n***a whaat

Huh n***a what

Huh give a f**k n***a whaat

Look ok it's OHB so n***a bag bag

I got an ounce of that bounce in a Glad bag

Molly f**king up my liver got a bad back

And if you trying to f**k with her I'mma tax that

A*s all on the floor I'm trynna pour it up b***h

Lean on my dick so slow it up b***h

And the police trynna pull up on the scene

Then they ask you what you seen

I ain't seen s**t

A hundred n***as right behind me that's the drum line

All you hear is 'blat blat' hit it one time

F**k a punch line n***a had bread since the lunch line

I can put them soldiers on the front line

Open season just n***a give me the reason

To bust and just let it squeeze and

My rope-a-dope is the meanest

I box you up in the freezer

Comatose paraplegic

I'm dodging the misdemeanors

Hoping I don't get subpoenas but I

Yeah

I'm just doing my thang fingers in the sky

Banging my gang like uh

Go on fall back 'cause you don't want no problems like that

'Cause we gonna be like huh n***a what

Huh give a f**k n***a whaat

Huh n***a what

Huh give a f**k n***a whaat

Huh banging out the truck

I'm T-Raww b***h go on let a n***a f**k

Huh b***h you heard what I said

Your b***h is a bird but I don't give her bread

What Problem pass the w**d

These n***as claim they ballin'

Then why they clothes free

These motherf**kers cheap

Like a nose bleed seat

You ain't gotta go to Miami

B***h to feel the heat woo

LA burner to your belly

My n***as OGs keep the burner in the telly

Getting head till it ache that's a motherf**king headache

Do this s**t tonight send it straight to felly felly

N***a why I'm selling dreams the money team

N***as spend crack but they ain't got no fiends

Got the juice and the cream

Wu-Tang Raheim

I'm a motherf**king money machine n***a

Yeah

I'm just doing my thang fingers in the sky

Banging my gang like uh

Go on fall back fall back fall back

How ya do that there what what what

Probably getting paper

But don't f**k with you broke hoes n***as or you haters

Maaan D Howard with the motherf**king Lakers

I represent the street no Limit is the label

Throw your hoods up motherf**ker where you from

We in this b***h deep

And it can get dumb

N***as in the back motherf**ker poppin' bottles

Chasing bad b***hes and them n***as throwing dollars

Louis V down from my head to my toes

C-Murder in the pen and that iron getting swole

Never gave a f**k 'bout no n***as wanna hate

Keep the chopper in the car case a n***a wanna play

She showed me the titties I call them b***hes Dhali

I know she a freak 'cause she gone off molly

Pushing 160 when I'm riding in the go

You ain't from round here

N***a better walk slow or get smoked