Mr. Brown
Styles of Beyond Lyrics


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Shout out my name, you bitch

[Verse 1]
Oh, yeah, who want to rip with Styles?
The whole place on the lookout for Mr. Brown
We've got, plenty of clues and forensic files
Plus, envious crews, so we trip for miles
It's (Mister Brown!)
Yeah, you know the drill
Never holdin' 'em still
Roll 'em over the hill
Just glide, close your mouth and open the blinds
Took the wings off a bird and let it float to the side
Say (What?) to hear me callin
Shoutin out my name and playin' this in the Walkman

[Chorus]
Aiyo, crash the gates
Aiyo, pack the place up
Break stuff, takin' all the paper
I'mma stay laced up
Keep a shank tucked, take a pay cut
Even let you keep the dang paste up (really?)
Say somethin, punk, what, put away the blank gun
Fakes want to talk about bank but they make none
Live from the sweatbox, sucking on the (???)
Pop some, lookin' for the foxhunt, peace

[Verse 2]
Yo, the joke's over, slap the bloke sober
Catch a .40 caliber case of glaucoma
Riders like Johnny Depp rollin' with Winona
Big trunk fulla shit, blow the globe up
So what? nobody knows us, got no love
Pop 6, Ryu and Tak, cops know what it does
Hot shit by the bungalow, drop the bloody glove
Won't get caught killin' today, baby, cause I'm a thug

Bottles of beer from the land of five horses
Man who wasn't there like Billy Bob Thornton
Crush-crew landin in, steppin' into the scene
Fertilize new lawns, a Requiem for a Dream
It's (Mister Brown!), legendary assignment
Searchlights hover, but can't seem to find him
Track down whatever you can in the mist
In this case, it's strictly the hand of a fist
So (What?), keep your eyes peeled, post and look fresh
Like, Mammoth and Ideal (???), hope to hook checks

Aiyo, what's up, ticket the blows
Plus, jack whoever wanted with us, get slapped up, (UH) let it be known
Mr. Brown got somethin' to bust
The blue steel touchin' his nuts
The pump got a sick mind of it's own
Oh, crackin' the globe like the edible egg
A nuclear rap bazooka with incredible aim
Who can you blame? I'm a troop cooped in a cage
And it's a thin line between a chipped tooth and a fang, come on

Yo, it's just one of those things
Where you want to ride but it just won't swing
want to kick a rhyme, but it just don't bang
Oh, you've got that new shit that still sounds played
Yo, it's just one of those things
Where you want to ride but it just won't swing




want to kick a rhyme, but it just don't bang
Oh, you've got that new shit that still sounds played

Overall Meaning

The song "Mr. Brown" by Styles of Beyond is a fast-paced, aggressive rap rock anthem that tells the story of a wanted and infamous criminal named Mr. Brown. The first verse talks about how Mr. Brown is on the run, with everyone on the lookout for him. Forensic files, clues, and envious crews are everywhere, and Styles of Beyond don't intend to let Mr. Brown slip through their fingers. They describe him as a slippery reprobate who is constantly on the move and never stays in one place for too long.


The chorus talks about how Styles of Beyond plan to take down Mr. Brown, by crashing gates, taking all the paper, and staying laced up. They also say they'll keep a shank tucked, take a pay cut, and let enemies keep the dang paste-up. They call out anyone who wants to talk about bank but makes none, and they're not afraid to get physical to make their point.


The second verse continues the theme of the first, with tough-guy rhymes and slick wordplay. Styles of Beyond describe Mr. Brown as a man who's always one step ahead, with a big trunk full of secrets and a penchant for violence. They talk about how they won't get caught killing Mr. Brown because they're thugs, and how they're ready to take on anyone who comes between them and their goal.


Overall, "Mr. Brown" is a hard-hitting, fast-paced song with a lot of attitude and swagger. It tells the story of a criminal on the run and the people who are after him, with tough-guy lyrics and aggressive rap-rock beats.


Line by Line Meaning

Shout out my name, you bitch
Address me with respect


Oh, yeah, who want to rip with Styles?
Who wants to rap with me?


The whole place on the lookout for Mr. Brown
Everyone is searching for the elusive Mr. Brown


We've got, plenty of clues and forensic files
We have numerous leads and evidence


Plus, envious crews, so we trip for miles
We're constantly pursued by rival rap groups


It's (Mister Brown!)
We're still looking for Mr. Brown


Yeah, you know the drill
You should know what to expect


Never holdin' 'em still
Never standing still


Roll 'em over the hill
Take them down


Just glide, close your mouth and open the blinds
Calm down and pay attention


Took the wings off a bird and let it float to the side
Overpowered and defeated someone/something


Say (What?) to hear me callin
Listen up


Shoutin out my name and playin' this in the Walkman
Spreading the word about me and my music


Aiyo, crash the gates
Burst in


Aiyo, pack the place up
Fill the venue to capacity


Break stuff, takin' all the paper
Destroying everything and taking all the money


I'mma stay laced up
I'll be well-dressed and prepared


Keep a shank tucked, take a pay cut
Be armed and willing to sacrifice money


Even let you keep the dang paste up (really?)
Help you out, even though you don't deserve it


Say somethin, punk, what, put away the blank gun
Speak up, don't just threaten


Fakes want to talk about bank but they make none
False friends brag about money they don't have


Live from the sweatbox, sucking on the (???)
Performing for a small, sweaty crowd


Pop some, lookin' for the foxhunt, peace
Celebrate and keep a low profile


Yo, the joke's over, slap the bloke sober
Stop messing around, get serious


Catch a .40 caliber case of glaucoma
Get attacked with a gun


Riders like Johnny Depp rollin' with Winona
Cool people hanging out together


Big trunk fulla shit, blow the globe up
Transporting contraband and causing chaos


So what? nobody knows us, got no love
We're not famous or respected


Pop 6, Ryu and Tak, cops know what it does
Talk of violence in the police department


Hot shit by the bungalow, drop the bloody glove
Illegal activity taking place


Won't get caught killin' today, baby, cause I'm a thug
I can get away with anything


Bottles of beer from the land of five horses
Drinking beer from the Ukraine


Man who wasn't there like Billy Bob Thornton
Someone who is missing or absent


Crush-crew landin in, steppin' into the scene
A group of powerful people arriving


Fertilize new lawns, a Requiem for a Dream
Sow the seeds of destruction


It's (Mister Brown!), legendary assignment
Still searching for Mr. Brown


Searchlights hover, but can't seem to find him
Trying to find Mr. Brown, but failing


Track down whatever you can in the mist
Find any clues you can


In this case, it's strictly the hand of a fist
Violence is the only solution


So (What?), keep your eyes peeled, post and look fresh
Stay alert and vigilant


Like, Mammoth and Ideal (???), hope to hook checks
Trying to make money


Aiyo, what's up, ticket the blows
What's happening, deal with the problems


Plus, jack whoever wanted with us, get slapped up, (UH) let it be known
Fight anyone who challenges us


Mr. Brown got somethin' to bust
Mr. Brown has something he wants to do


The blue steel touchin' his nuts
His gun is close by and ready to use


The pump got a sick mind of it's own
The shotgun has a mind of its own


Oh, crackin' the globe like the edible egg
Causing destruction on a large scale


A nuclear rap bazooka with incredible aim
An incredibly powerful weapon of destruction


Who can you blame? I'm a troop cooped in a cage
It's not my fault, I'm trapped


And it's a thin line between a chipped tooth and a fang, come on
It's dangerous to get involved with us


Yo, it's just one of those things
Sometimes things don't work out


Where you want to ride but it just won't swing
It's frustrating when things don't go your way


Want to kick a rhyme, but it just don't bang
Trying to make music, but it's not good


Oh, you've got that new shit that still sounds played
Your new music is still old and unoriginal




Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, CARLIN AMERICA INC
Written by: MATTHEW STUART BENJAMIN, LAYO PASKIN

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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