Mr. Brown

Verse 1 (Tak) (Shout out my name, you bitch) Oh, yeah, who wanna rip with Styles? The whole place on the look out for Mr. Brown We got plenty of clues and forensic files Plus, areas cool so we trip for miles It's (Mister Brown!) Yeah, you know the drill Never holdin' em still Roll 'em over the hill just slide Close 'em out and open the blinds Clip the wings off a bird and let it float to the side Say (What?) they here me callin' Shoutin' out my name I'm playin' this in the Walkman. Verse 2 (Ryu) Aiyo, Crash the gates Aiyo, Pack the place up Break stuff, takin' all the paper I'mmma stay laced up Keep a shank tucked, take a pay cut Even let you keep the dang pay stub (Really?) Say somethin' punk, what? Put away the blank gun Fakes wanna talk about bank, but they make none Live from the sweat box Sucka know the props up, pop some Lookin' for the foxhunt, peace. Chorus x 2 "Bust shots, full clip one up in the chamber, Danger! You know how we comin' Rock forty inch cables What is really with that though Dick Blower" Verse 3 (Ryu) Yo, the joke's over Slap the bloke sober(Uh) Catch a forty caliber case of glaucoma Rider's like Johnny Depp rollin' with Winona Big trunk full of shit, blow the globe up So what, nobody knows us got no love Pop six, Ryu and Tak, cops know what it does Hot shit, by the bungalow, drop the bloody glove And won't get caught killin' today baby, cause I'm a thug Verse 4 (Tak) Bottles of bear on the land of five horses Man who wasn't there like Billy Bob Thornton Crush-crew landin' in steppin in to the scene Fertilize newborns a Requiem for A Dream It's (Mister Brown) legendary assignment (hah!) Search lights hover but can't seem to find him Track down whatever you can in the mist In this case it's the strictly the hand over fist So (What?) keep your eyes peeled, post and look Fresh, like Mammoth and Idea, hope to hook. Verse 5 (Ryu) Aiyo what's up, takin' the blows Plus Jack, whoever want it with us get slapped up (Uh) Let it be known, Mr. Brown got somethin' to bust The blue steel touchin' his nuts The pump got a sick mind of it's own (Oh) Crackin' the globe like the edible egg A nuclear rap bazooka with incredible aim Who can you blame, I'm a troop cooped in a cage And it's a thin line between a chipped tooth and a fang, come on. (You guy's goin' to get liquor?) Verse 6 (Tak) Yo, it's just one of those things (Yeah) Where you wanna ride but it just don't swing (What?) Wanna kick a rhyme, but it just don't bang(Ha) Oh, you've got that new shit that still sounds played Yo, it's just one of those things (Yeah) Where you wanna ride but it just don't swing (What?) Wanna kick a rhyme, but it just don't bang(Ha) Oh, you've got that new shit that still sounds played Chorus