"Bomb" lyrics - CHRIS BROWN

CHRIS BROWN

"Bomb"

[Intro: Wiz Khalifa & Chris Brown]
Hahahahaha yeah, it's your nigga young Khalifa man, Chris Breezy
All my ladies put ya hands up, yeah Taylor Gang
All my ladies put ya hands up
You know we uh, have to pass them some papers on this one

[Chorus: Chris Brown]
If you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Ladies put ya hands up if you that bomb-bomb
Girl you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb

[Verse 1: Chris Brown]
Oh me, oh my, body like a monster
Let me get inside, ya booty, I'mma conquer
Ain't no question 'bout my size, I'll give you the answer
Girl you got that good good, I already know
Tell it by your size, I know you a dancer
Rein-derierre, I'mma call you Prancer
Booty paparazzi, pose for the camera
All my ladies, if you got it, let me know

[Pre-Chorus: Chris Brown]
Shawty thick in her hips, cold than a mother
Licking her lips, a bad mothersucker
Apple looking so ripe, she make me want a piece
I give it to her all night, so she don't wanna leave

[Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa]
Something like a pimp, nothing like them other fellas
Heard that you the shit, girl we should blow up together
Ooh I know you got that bomb shit, call it 9/11
I'm just tryna beat it up, he could do it acapella
We should go back to my crib, that's what I'mma tell her
Bring one or two of them 'cause your friends looking kinda jealous
Rolling papers like propellers, blowing mozzarella
Lotta niggas in the club, who cares? I'm the realest
Tell the waitress, uh, we gon' need more cases
And when you think the money's gone, I'm spending more faces
She with homeboy, but she want this
6 cars, 8 chains, 3 cribs, 1 Wiz

[Verse 3: Chris Brown]
Hold up kimosabe, my crib look like a lobby
I'm in that black Bugatti and I'm off that Carlo Rossi
I with that Taylor Posse, these ladies wanna party
And there's so much ice up on my neck, it look like I play hockey
So hold up nigga, stop me, all these haters watch me
I give her the pill and the D, you can call me cocky
Any stage or any beat, you know I'mma body
And Wiz roll that good shit up and he riding shotty

[Pre-Chorus: Chris Brown]
Shawty thick in her hips, cold than a mother
Licking her lips, a bad mothersucker
Apple looking so right, she make me want a piece
I give it to her all night, so she don't wanna leave

[Outro: Wiz Khalifa]
Yup, so when your good smell like that good weed man
Blame it on me, don't even blame Breezy man, blame that shit on me man, yup