"Real Hip Hop Shit #4" lyrics - CHRIS BROWN

[Verse 1: Chris Brown]
Do you think I give a fuck what you think about me?
I got my chin up, brother walking properly
Almost got them papers so no coppers bother me
Fuck walking on egg shells, father help me please
I'm ducking slugs, I'm in higher water so they leech
You got the game f'd up, but it's all G
I choose it 'cause this music's therapeutic to my brain cells
And when I'm stupid, yeah I lose it I don't think well
Yeah, and for this moolah, I'm a road runner
You can't stop the party, boy, you won't fuck my fun up
Might just have to call them boys then they gonna run up
Pretty little face lift, yeah you getting done up
I light a candle for the homies that's history
You light a candle just to save electricity
Let me calm down, I don't wanna get tazed, I just bought this outfit and these shades
I'm balling hard nigga hit that replay and all my haters die slow and decay
Look, leggo, give me four quarters and a few vitamin waters
I guess to win in this game I just gotta fuck reporters
A nigga somersault naw, it's not what the doctor ordered
Red shots is on your forehead, block 'em, they recording
Now I'm on the west coast riding in that lolo
With a couple killers who be hiding from the popo
Know they got the best smoke, feel like you in slow mo
But I don't smoke that shit so no that wasn't no promo
VA yeah we hard bitch
'Cause everywhere I go I feel like I'm a target
I'm a star, you just start shit
Super hero switching fists like I'm Clark Kent

[Verse 2: Kevin McCall]
Superman that ho, check, look, see the way snakes double I guess you can say I'm tipsy
I'm all about my hustle like my first name Nipsy
Breezy brought me on, so I be wherever Chris be
I'm the next to blow, believe it or not, Ripley's
Biggest thing in LA how can you miss me?
Tell the bank teller keep them hundreds extra crispy
Cash rules everything around me
I see your mouth moving but you ain't really saying shit like the lip sync
A lot of chicks on my teams so they call me coach
My dick game got them bugging call them cockroach
How you fly as me? I don't fly coach
Nigga I'm sick so when I spit it's fucking gross
That's dope, nigga that's dope
Iced in the bitch but I ain't never seen the slopes
Californication, I'm repping the West coast
East side, young niggers, my cousins are straight locs