D.g.i.f.u. Lyrics - Fan Of A Fan: The Album - Chris Brown

Ya'll know me, the still same OG, young T-Y-G 

Hated on by most these niggas 

But I still keep shittin' on niggas lowkey 

I don't fuck with you to the third degree 

I keep a G, DMV, you owe a three 

Schemin' on the low, tryna make a nigga profitly 

All I do is get money, fuck, and sleep 

I should run for mayor 

Been runnin' shit, you barely maintain your bitch 

No, this ain't no lets say regular degular shit 

Break a neck on some Busta shit 

Souls of Mischief, aww shit 

I be on til infinity 

Don't predict, bitch, what I'm gonna do 

Cause chances are I've outdone you 

And most of my so called enemies 

Spit your game, talk your shit 

Grab your gat, call your clique 

Ball so hard I don't need the assist 

I'm the best so I keep saying that shit 

Nigga, you should too 

If you knew what this game'll do to you 

Look at bullshit that I've been through 

This the drive through and shit on you 

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Don't get it fucked up 

Yesterday I was the freshest nigga in America 

I swear to God I ain't lyin', bruh, I ain't lyin' bruh 

In America 

Don't get it fucked up 

Niggas talkin' bout oh shit 

I pull up they like oh shit 

Now look whose talkin', bitch 

Now look whose talkin', bitch, yeah 

Don't get it fucked up 

I do this shit for my, I do this shit for my 

Do this shit for my loved ones 

Don't get it fucked up 

I do this shit for my, I do this shit for my 

I don't trust niggas, I only trust funds nigga 

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say 

But nothin' comes out when they move they lips 

This extended clip will make Buddha shit 

Shawty comin' and pullin' up with them hooter tips 

Never use a nigga, but she abuse the dick 

I lick the pussy, let it air dry 

We in a boat, nigga, right off the coast 

European or Caribbean, I'm sweatin' out my hair dye 

So don't get it fucked up 

I got a handful of matches, fuckin' with a bad bitch 

All my niggas is savages, better loc up 

Damn, it's a tragedy, all of these casualties 

Metal through his body, nigga, check his anatomy, oh shit 

Why you pillow talkin'? That's ho shit 

Nigga, you a geek, still talkin' 'bout me fucking yo' bitch 

I can't lie, can't lie 

I got a bunch of bad hoes and a wife on the side 

I believe I can fly, I'm the shit now 

Wanna be like Mike when I die 

Step right up, can't name any nigga that can fuck with us 

I'mma bring the pain, we gon' be the game-changers 

All in your face, I'm bustin' nuts 

Did ya'll think I would let my dough freeze? 

Ho, please! Better bow down on both knees 

Who you think taught you to throw P's? 

Who you think taught you to rap keys? 

Dress Dries, Phillip Lim, SLP's 

Like Snoop D-O-double G 

Nigga murda was the case so motherfuck the police 

Ya'll niggas soft like Emojis, with the heart eyes 

Ya'll part skies, ya'll cloud killas 

We aimin' niggas, my soul is blacker than apartheid 

We coupe niggas, you niggas riding four doors 

Like Uber nigga, we pilin' all of your whores 

On the canopy my stamina be 

Enough for Pamela Anderson Lee 

My Katy Perry ain't afraid to carry 

That shit you sniff, Taylor Swift 

Niggas talk yet it remains a myth 

I never seen it, they only dream it 

They rap about it, do interviews 

With they toy cars and they little jewels