I'm feeling like a bad mutha shut yo mouth
I done came a long way, pockets well endowed
Now that's Magnums on both hips
I love you on postscript
Old girl write me scarlet letters, tell me she hopeless
Feel guilty 'bout her, two timing, shoe shining new man
Buff my sneakers for some coupons and food stamps
I put it all on the plastic, swear I ain't read the price
He's nothing but a roadblock, you should read all the signs
Candle lit the bedroom
Baby bucks need headroom
Stub your toe on bedpost
You don't need all them lights, unh unh
What a turn off
Sound just like yo daddy
You staring at the stolen cable dreaming 'bout crabby patties
And asking Annie
If she ok for you to move in
Brown sugar turned to Splenda daddy that confused you
Ya man a bird, word to Lordy
And the moral of the story
Take care, nothing was the same
Like it used to be
Who's that brotha' with the style the ladies loving?
She's a brick-house
He's a bad wolf to touch her
One gold tooth
Smile like the lord's supper
With a pocket full of dough
Call the town his bread and butter
Threw my own self a player's ball but I ain't no pimp
I had to celebrate getting my bank roll legit
I gave your boyfriend a job
He deliver papers for me and your Man Crush Monday owe his savings to me
Listen, Big Wurm when I come for my money
Ask questions while I moisturize my perm for the honeys
Catch a player politicking
Where's the pollen prohibition?
Too many ladies are tryna be the queen bee i'm missing
But I need a superbad
The original, right now
Talking pam grier, foxy brown to be my common noun
Baby and me me swim to breakfast in a jet ski
Rolling to the dinner party pull up in an X-wing
Where the guest list curated to get the best seats
Presidential plates now I'm feeling like the west wing
Eating lobster tail while drinking ginger ale up out the can
Ratchet and classy
Streets'll show and tell you that i'm the man
Who's that brotha' with the style the ladies loving?
She's a brick-house
He's a bad wolf to touch her
One gold tooth
Smile like the lord's supper
With a pocket full of dough
Call the town his bread and butter
Who's That Brotha? Video (MV)
RaneRaps - Who's That Brotha? Lyrics
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I'm feeling like a bad mutha shut yo mouth
I done came a long way, pockets well endowed
Now that's Magnums on both hips
I love you on postscript
Old girl write me scarlet letters, tell me she hopeless
Feel guilty 'bout her, two timing, shoe shining new man
Buff my sneakers for some coupons and food stamps
I put it all on the plastic, swear I ain't read the price
He's nothing but a roadblock, you should read all the signs
Candle lit the bedroom
Baby bucks need headroom
Stub your toe on bedpost
You don't need all them lights, unh unh
What a turn off
Sound just like yo daddy
You staring at the stolen cable dreaming 'bout crabby patties
And asking Annie
If she ok for you to move in
Brown sugar turned to Splenda daddy that confused you
Ya man a bird, word to Lordy
And the moral of the story
Take care, nothing was the same
Like it used to be
Who's that brotha' with the style the ladies loving?
She's a brick-house
He's a bad wolf to touch her
One gold tooth
Smile like the lord's supper
With a pocket full of dough
Call the town his bread and butter
Threw my own self a player's ball but I ain't no pimp
I had to celebrate getting my bank roll legit
I gave your boyfriend a job
He deliver papers for me and your Man Crush Monday owe his savings to me
Listen, Big Wurm when I come for my money
Ask questions while I moisturize my perm for the honeys
Catch a player politicking
Where's the pollen prohibition?
Too many ladies are tryna be the queen bee i'm missing
But I need a superbad
The original, right now
Talking pam grier, foxy brown to be my common noun
Baby and me me swim to breakfast in a jet ski
Rolling to the dinner party pull up in an X-wing
Where the guest list curated to get the best seats
Presidential plates now I'm feeling like the west wing
Eating lobster tail while drinking ginger ale up out the can
Ratchet and classy
Streets'll show and tell you that i'm the man
Who's that brotha' with the style the ladies loving?
She's a brick-house
He's a bad wolf to touch her
One gold tooth
Smile like the lord's supper
With a pocket full of dough
Call the town his bread and butter
I done came a long way, pockets well endowed
Now that's Magnums on both hips
I love you on postscript
Old girl write me scarlet letters, tell me she hopeless
Feel guilty 'bout her, two timing, shoe shining new man
Buff my sneakers for some coupons and food stamps
I put it all on the plastic, swear I ain't read the price
He's nothing but a roadblock, you should read all the signs
Candle lit the bedroom
Baby bucks need headroom
Stub your toe on bedpost
You don't need all them lights, unh unh
What a turn off
Sound just like yo daddy
You staring at the stolen cable dreaming 'bout crabby patties
And asking Annie
If she ok for you to move in
Brown sugar turned to Splenda daddy that confused you
Ya man a bird, word to Lordy
And the moral of the story
Take care, nothing was the same
Like it used to be
Who's that brotha' with the style the ladies loving?
She's a brick-house
He's a bad wolf to touch her
One gold tooth
Smile like the lord's supper
With a pocket full of dough
Call the town his bread and butter
Threw my own self a player's ball but I ain't no pimp
I had to celebrate getting my bank roll legit
I gave your boyfriend a job
He deliver papers for me and your Man Crush Monday owe his savings to me
Listen, Big Wurm when I come for my money
Ask questions while I moisturize my perm for the honeys
Catch a player politicking
Where's the pollen prohibition?
Too many ladies are tryna be the queen bee i'm missing
But I need a superbad
The original, right now
Talking pam grier, foxy brown to be my common noun
Baby and me me swim to breakfast in a jet ski
Rolling to the dinner party pull up in an X-wing
Where the guest list curated to get the best seats
Presidential plates now I'm feeling like the west wing
Eating lobster tail while drinking ginger ale up out the can
Ratchet and classy
Streets'll show and tell you that i'm the man
Who's that brotha' with the style the ladies loving?
She's a brick-house
He's a bad wolf to touch her
One gold tooth
Smile like the lord's supper
With a pocket full of dough
Call the town his bread and butter
Writer: Clifford Hughes
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid