Bomb
Chris Brown feat. Wiz Khalifa Lyrics


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 had to, uh, pass them some papers on this one, let's go

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 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-whoa)
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (oh-whoa)
Ladies put your hands up if you got that bomb-bomb (oh-whoa, 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 a cappella (a cappella)
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 (hahahahaha)
Lickin' her lips, a bad mothersucker (yeah, uh)
Apple lookin' so ripe, she make me want a 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-whoa)
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (oh-whoa)
Ladies put your hands up if you got that bomb-bomb (oh-whoa, 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 Rose
I'm-I'm-I'm with that Taylor posse, 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 (baow)

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 (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-whoa)
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (oh-whoa)
Ladies put your hands up if you got that bomb-bomb (oh-whoa)
Girl, you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb (yeah, yeah)

Yup, so when your bitch 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

Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, THE ROYALTY NETWORK INC., CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Spirit Music Group, Peermusic Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Written by: Amber Streeter, Nick Marsh, Steph Jones, Christopher Maurice Brown, Winston Delano Riley, Ryan Buendia, Cameron Jibril Thomaz, Michael Ojike McHenry, Kevin McCall, Jean Paul Louis Baptiste

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Most interesting comment from YouTube:

Killua

"Bomb"
(feat. Wiz Khalifa)

[Chris Brown:]
All my ladies put ya hands up
All my ladies put ya hands up
If you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Ladies put ya hands up if you that bomb-bomb
Girl you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb

Oh me, oh my, body like a monster
Let me get inside if ya booty I'm a conquer
If ya question bout my size, I 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'm a call you Prancer
Booty paparazzi, pose for the camera

All my ladies if you got it let me know
Shawty thick in her hips, Cold than a mother
Licking her lips, a bad mothersucker
Apple looking so ripe, she make me want a 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
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Ladies put ya hands up if you got bomb-bomb
Girl you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb

[Wiz Khalifa:]
Something like a pimp, nothin' like them other fellas
Heard that you the 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, he could do it acapella
We should go back to my crib, that's what I'm a tell her
Bring one or two of them, cause your friends looking kinda jealous
Rolling papers like propellers blowing mozzarella
Lotta niggas in the club, who cares I'm the realest
Tell the waiters we gonna need more cases
And when you think the money's gone we spending more faces
She with homeboy, but she want this
6 cars, 8 chains, 3 cribs, 1 Wiz

[Chris Brown:]
Shawty thick in her hips, Cold than a mother
Licking her lips, a bad mother sucker
Apple looking so ripe, she make me want a 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
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Ladies put ya hands up if you got bomb-bomb
Girl you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb

Hold up kimosabe, my crib look like a lobby
I'm in that black Bugatti
And I off that Carlo Rossi
I with that Taylor Posse
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 it up, your in the deep, you can call me cocky
Any stage or any beat you know I'm a body
And Wiz roll that good shit up and he riding shotty

She thick in her hips, Cold than a mother
Licking her lips, a bad mother sucker
Apple looking so ripe, she make me want a 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
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Ladies put ya hands up if you got bomb-bomb
Girl you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb



All comments from YouTube:

XeroBtz

listening this song without bass is just like eating cheesburger without cheese xd

Joey Yabut

Hahahaha

ツRoberts.

yeah

Marcelo

I need this on Spotify. :(

John Smith

Im playing it right now on spotify

Sauce McGee

It’s on Spotify now. F.A.M.E (Extended edition).

John Hansen

Marcelo Portillo this song is nowhere to be found on mainstream media they took down because of stupid reason.

Enzo Chuck

+Guilherme Oliveira Vendito n tem

Ryan Fisk

Same here.

1 More Replies...

zeranzeran

this was an under rated album

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