Chris Brown, Wiz Khalifa - Bomb lyrics

Ha ha hahaha 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

If you got that
Bomb-bomb ba-bomb ba-bomb-bomb
(Ha ha ha ha ha) 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

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

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

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)

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

You know shawty thick in her hips
Cold than a mother (Ha ha ha ha ha)
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)

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)

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)

You know shawty thick in her hips
Cold than a mother (Okay)
Lickin' her lips, a bad mothersucker
(Ha ha haha) 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)

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)

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
Ha ha hahaha, uh, yup