Mr. Brown

Verse 1 (Tak)
 (Shout out my name, you bitch)
 Oh, yeah, who wanna rip with Styles?
 The whole place on the look out for Mr. Brown
 We got plenty of clues and forensic files
 Plus, areas cool so we trip for miles
 It's (Mister Brown!)
 Yeah, you know the drill
 Never holdin' em still
 Roll 'em over the hill just slide
 Close 'em out and open the blinds
 Clip the wings off a bird and let it float to the side
 Say (What?) they here me callin'
 Shoutin' out my name I'm playin' this in the Walkman.
 Verse 2 (Ryu)
 Aiyo, Crash the gates
 Aiyo, Pack the place up
 Break stuff, takin' all the paper
 I'mmma stay laced up
 Keep a shank tucked, take a pay cut
 Even let you keep the dang pay stub (Really?)
 Say somethin' punk, what?
 Put away the blank gun
 Fakes wanna talk about bank, but they make none
 Live from the sweat box
 Sucka know the props up, pop some
 Lookin' for the foxhunt, peace.
 Chorus x 2
 "Bust shots, full clip one up in the chamber, Danger!
 You know how we comin'
 Rock forty inch cables
 What is really with that though
 Dick Blower"
 Verse 3 (Ryu)
 Yo, the joke's over
 Slap the bloke sober(Uh)
 Catch a forty caliber case of glaucoma
 Rider's like Johnny Depp rollin' with Winona
 Big trunk full of shit, blow the globe up
 So what, nobody knows us got no love
 Pop six, Ryu and Tak, cops know what it does
 Hot shit, by the bungalow, drop the bloody glove
 And won't get caught killin' today baby, cause I'm a thug
 Verse 4 (Tak)
 Bottles of bear on the land of five horses
 Man who wasn't there like Billy Bob Thornton
 Crush-crew landin' in steppin in to the scene
 Fertilize newborns a Requiem for A Dream
 It's (Mister Brown) legendary assignment (hah!)
 Search lights hover but can't seem to find him
 Track down whatever you can in the mist
 In this case it's the strictly the hand over fist
 So (What?) keep your eyes peeled, post and look
 Fresh, like Mammoth and Idea, hope to hook.
 Verse 5 (Ryu)
 Aiyo what's up, takin' the blows
 Plus Jack, whoever want it with us get slapped up (Uh)
 Let it be known, Mr. Brown got somethin' to bust
 The blue steel touchin' his nuts
 The pump got a sick mind of it's own (Oh)
 Crackin' the globe like the edible egg
 A nuclear rap bazooka with incredible aim
 Who can you blame, I'm a troop cooped in a cage
 And it's a thin line between a chipped tooth and a fang, come on.
 (You guy's goin' to get liquor?)
 Verse 6 (Tak)
 Yo, it's just one of those things (Yeah)
 Where you wanna ride but it just don't swing (What?)
 Wanna kick a rhyme, but it just don't bang(Ha)
 Oh, you've got that new shit that still sounds played
 Yo, it's just one of those things (Yeah)
 Where you wanna ride but it just don't swing (What?)
 Wanna kick a rhyme, but it just don't bang(Ha)
 Oh, you've got that new shit that still sounds played
 Chorus