Bomb

Lyrics

[Intro: Wiz Khalifa, Chris Brown] Hahahahaha yeah It's your nigga young Khalifa man, Chris Breezy All my ladies put your hands up, yeah, Taylor Gang All my ladies put your hands up You know we, uh, have to pass them some papers on this one, let's go [Chorus: Chris Brown, Wiz Khalifa] If you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (Hahahahaha) Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb Ladies put your hands up if you got that bomb-bomb (You know, you gon' have to bring that bomb) Girl, you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb [Verse 1: Chris Brown] Oh me, oh my, body like a monster Let me get inside, ya booty, I'ma conquer Ain't no question 'bout my size, I'll give you the answer Girl, you got that good good, I already know Tell it by your size, I know you a dancer Rein-derriere, I'ma call you Prancer Booty paparazzi, pose for the camera All my ladies, if you got it, let me know [Pre-Chorus: Chris Brown, Chris Brown & Sevyn Streeter] You know shawty thick in her hips, cold than a mother Lickin' her lips, a bad mothersucker Apple lookin' so ripe, she make me want a piece, piece I give it to her all night, so she don't wanna leave [Chorus: Chris Brown, Wiz Khalifa] If you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (Oh-woah) Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (Oh-woah) Ladies put your hands up if you got that bomb-bomb (Oh-woah, hahahahaha) Girl, you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb (Yeah, yeah) [Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa] Uh, somethin' like a pimp (Pimp), nothin' like them other fellas Heard that you the shit (S-Shit), girl, we should blow up together Ooh, I know you got that bomb shit, call it 9/11 I'm just tryna beat it up, h-h-he could do it acapella (Acapella) We should go back to my crib, that's what I'ma tell her Bring one or two of them 'cause your friends lookin' kinda jealous R-R-Rollin' papers like propellers, blowin' mozzarella Lotta niggas in the club, who cares? I'm the realest Tell the waitress, uh, we gon' need more cases And when you think the money's gone, I'm spendin' more faces She with homeboy (Homeboy), but she want this Six cars, eight chains, three cribs, one Wiz [Pre-Chorus: Chris Brown, Chris Brown & Sevyn Streeter, Wiz Khalifa] You know shawty thick in her hips, cold than a mother (Hahahahaha) Lickin' her lips, a bad mothersucker (Yeah, uh) Apple lookin' so ripe, she make me want a piece, piece (What up, Breezy?) I give it to her all night, so she don't wanna leave (It's your young nigga, Wiz) [Chorus: Chris Brown, Wiz Khalifa] If you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (Oh-woah) Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (Oh-woah) Ladies put your hands up if you got that bomb-bomb (Oh-woah, yeah) Girl, you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb (Yeah, yeah) [Verse 3: Chris Brown] Hold up kimosabe, my crib look like a lobby I'm in that black Bugatti and I'm off that Carlo Rossi I'm-I'm-I'm with that Taylor possé, these ladies wanna party And there's so much ice up on my neck, it look like I play hockey So hold up, nigga, stop me, all these haters watch me I give her the pill and the D, you can call me cocky Any stage or any beat, you know I'ma body And Wiz, roll that good shit up and he ridin' shotty (Bloaw!) [Pre-Chorus: Chris Brown, Chris Brown & Sevyn Streeter] You know shawty thick in her hips, cold than a mother (Okay) Lickin' her lips, a bad mothersucker (Hahahaha) Apple lookin' so ripe, she make me want a piece, piece (Hahaha, you know) I give it to her all night, so she don't wanna leave (Yeah, leggo!) [Chorus: Chris Brown] If you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (Oh-woah) Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (Oh-woah) Ladies put your hands up if you got that bomb-bomb (Oh-woah) Girl, you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb (Yeah, yeah) [Outro: Wiz Khalifa] Yup, so when your kush smell like that good weed, man, blame it on me Don't even blame Breezy, man, blame that shit on me man Hahahahaha, uh, yup