Danny Brown, Nick Rosenberg, Peter Rosenberg - Brown Eyes lyrics
Danny Brown [Daniel Dewan Sewell] Detroit, Michigan, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Danny Brown, Nick Rosenberg, Peter Rosenberg - Brown Eyes lyrics]
My Uncle offa Blow
Nodding while he standing up
Minute’s been stuck like he
Picking something up
Rolling up the swisher with the
Sac under my nuts
While I’m puffin on a Lucie
Talkin bout the latest truck and Hi
(how) ima come up and get one next summer
So next summer won’t be
Talking bout next summer
Yo bitch is a runner
My niggas had fun with her
Did the whole team and heard you
Put a gun to her homie that ain't pimpin
Soft hearted for these hoes
I feeds em lots of pills
And put coke up in they nose
Go to thrift stores, drop a buck on t-shirts
Lines in the dressing room then
She bought a cheap purse
Straight up out the hut with some suburb hoes
Expensive perfume and some new old clothes
Cuss it ain't high end
Ain't gotta be vintage
She buy her own drinks and
Week supply of spinach
Now baby break it down just
To build it back up copped a couple pounds
Then help me bag it up
A pill and a half now a nigga acting up
Drunk too much, now a nigga throwing up
But that was last night
Nigga I’m still drinking
Smoking on the purple got
A nigga pupil shrinking
Plotting on a Lincoln
Get it with the ink pin you Fucking with me
My nigga what you thinking
Your bars too immature this is grown man flow
And that’s why my bitches grown
With some grown man dough
You’re fucking with them youngins
On the phone with them hoes
I text a bitch a message now
She knockin' at the door
Naw that’s the pill man, let me get four
I swear this the last time
I won’t do it no more
But said that last week, and now a nigga back
Fuck it, It ain’t like a nigga smoking crack
Nodding while he standing up
Minute’s been stuck like he
Picking something up
Rolling up the swisher with the
Sac under my nuts
While I’m puffin on a Lucie
Talkin bout the latest truck and Hi
(how) ima come up and get one next summer
So next summer won’t be
Talking bout next summer
Yo bitch is a runner
My niggas had fun with her
Did the whole team and heard you
Put a gun to her homie that ain't pimpin
Soft hearted for these hoes
I feeds em lots of pills
And put coke up in they nose
Go to thrift stores, drop a buck on t-shirts
Lines in the dressing room then
She bought a cheap purse
Straight up out the hut with some suburb hoes
Expensive perfume and some new old clothes
Cuss it ain't high end
Ain't gotta be vintage
She buy her own drinks and
Week supply of spinach
Now baby break it down just
To build it back up copped a couple pounds
Then help me bag it up
A pill and a half now a nigga acting up
Drunk too much, now a nigga throwing up
But that was last night
Nigga I’m still drinking
Smoking on the purple got
A nigga pupil shrinking
Plotting on a Lincoln
Get it with the ink pin you Fucking with me
My nigga what you thinking
Your bars too immature this is grown man flow
And that’s why my bitches grown
With some grown man dough
You’re fucking with them youngins
On the phone with them hoes
I text a bitch a message now
She knockin' at the door
Naw that’s the pill man, let me get four
I swear this the last time
I won’t do it no more
But said that last week, and now a nigga back
Fuck it, It ain’t like a nigga smoking crack