Songtexte:
King B Playing With My Friends

her And go get her like a wide receiver But we don't play no ball See when it comes to you babygirl, B.B. don't play at all [Verse 1 (Chris Brown):]

Good man Truman Copote Talking about my throughts 'cuase they must grow Cock my brain to shoot my load I'm on the porch 'cause I lost my housekey Pick up my

Of course we ain't friends, you never stood on no blocks Streets or corners with zombies, ghouls and gangstas Cops, drug dealers with pools of blood

m storming with lead showers And I'm murderous, common is formerly Nastradamus I'm going for the top regardless Pretty Boy Floyd, the rotten tooth king Ghosts of my dead friends

No. 5 Swine like mono and diglyceride My vocals got texture, you just texturized I'm nicer than your writtens even when I'm improvised Step into my zone get flown like fly By the b

it down [Bun B - Verse 2] They know I'm on a Port Arthur state of mind southern superstar status I elevate the crime My time is money so I put some money on my

he wins, clocking MS ends To his friends he lends, lotta joy he sends Jay lose today, this is what I say Dick in your mouth all day My beats were played

my name From the home of the blues, thought I paid my dues It's hard to fill my shoes, imitators abuse I just love the music, like my heart and my brain

Because they don't know my name, only know my initials Building bombs in the attic for elected officials I quit my job, I cut my hair You know I cut my