[Refrain] Chris Brown
If anybody feeling fresh in the building
Take your hand, hold it high to the ceiling right now
And say damn I'm killing them, damn I'm killing them
I know they feeling me now
And if you too fresh in the building
Then take your hand, hold it high to the ceiling right now
And say damn I'm killing them, damn I'm killing them
I know they feeling me now
B.o.b
And I'm still here with a lifestyle you would kill for
Still here with the same shoes that I had on from the get-go
Straight out of Atlanta, Georgia
For any of y'all that didn't know
And I'm never that hard to find because 420 is my zip code
My back then couldn't get dro, cause back then I was this broke
That's why I got so many hustles
Bruh man from the fifth floor
What would you do in the middle of the winter
When the sun goes down and it gets cold?
Growin' up in a house with no stove
No doors, no walls, no windows
And my brother was always fresher
I would go to school in his clothes, when I did go
So that's why now this the type of life that I live for
Comin' up as a youngin', man some nights I would vomit
I would throw up on myself cause I was so sick to my stomach
Now I'm the shit, fix the plumbing
Feel with my y'all, I'm this close
Spent my whole life chasin' shit, where's Nabisco?
My past memories, I miss those
Hey, all I can say is you get what you wish for
T.I.
Let's go, hey
I'm fresh off my pit-stop
Flow airtight with no ziploc
Get shit pop when my shit drop
No hip-hop, this tip hop
I'm back standin' at the tip top
Where I belong, it won't be long
'til you hear me on a b.o.b song
Some chick gettin' my skeet on
To touch the sole of my feet, g
You're gon' have to get your reach on
I'm up all the way high, all the way fly
On the ground and I'm off the radar
Bernie Madoff money, dawg
Got killers paid off with it all
I got the juice, could you place a call
And we place a call to who place a call
Don't get your part and not too hard
I disregard what you say
Back up the trunk and pass the buck
Here's where I'm stoppin' today
Got swag all on me, homie
Can't wipe it away we too ill, I'll
That's how we got arenas, dumps, and stadiums feel
How you feel?
B.o.b
And I'm still here with a black whip from the strange clouds
And I'm still here with the same team, nigga stay down
Still here for the east side
Ain't a thing change but the bank account
Hands high when I come 'round
Cause I'm killin this shit nigga, hands down
And I go hard, my passport's like a postcard
Give a fuck if I'm solo, I'll go toe-to-toe with your whole squad
With the soul of a soldier
But even still I don't want no parts
And no niggas with no hearts
You cocksuckers need yo guards
I'm throwed off for the most part
A young dog with an old bark
Flow dumb, but I'm so smart
I compose art, call me Mozart
My nightlife's like a soap opera
With two chicks like I'm Noah's ark
They got nice dresses with no bras with good bodies like « oh god! »
From a poor child to on top like a Mohawk
But I always new I'd go far
Like a gas truck with no bar
So no applause, hold the applause
Just put your hand up if you know the song
[Refrain] (x2)
Bobby Ray Simmons Jr., known professionally as B.o.B, is an American rapper, singer, songwriter, and record producer. Raised in Decatur, Georgia, Simmons signed with record producer Jim Jonsin's Rebel Rock Entertainment in 2006. Two years later, he signed a joint venture recording contract with fellow Georgia rapper T.I.'s Grand Hustle Records, an imprint of Atlantic Records. Following his major-label deal, Simmons quickly achieved commercial success when his 2009 single, "Nothin' on You", topped the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 chart and received three nominations—Record of the Year, Best Rap Song, and Best Rap/Sung Collaboration—at the 53rd Grammy Awards.
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