[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'ma 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-derierre, I'ma call you Prancer
Booty paparaz, pose for the camera
All my ladies if you got it let me know
She thick in her hips, Cold than a motha
Licking her lips, a bad mothasucker
Apple looking so right, 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 it acapella
We should go back to my crib, thats what I'ma tell her
Bring one or two of them, cause your friends looking kinda jealous
Rolling papers like propellors blowing mozarella
Lotta n-ggas in the club, who cares I'm the realest
Tell the waiters we gon 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]
She thick in her hips, Cold than a mother
Licking her lips, a bad mothersucker
Apple looking so right, 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 thta Taylor Posse
These ladies wanna party
And theres so much ice up on my neck it look like I play hockey
So hold up n-gga, 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'ma 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 mothersucker
Apple looking so right, 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
compositores: 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
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