Like 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