Bomb Lyrics by Chris Brown


Chris Brown Lyrics

Bomb Lyrics
[Wiz Khalifa:]
Hahaahahaaa, yeah! It's yah nigga Young Khalifa man... Chris Breezy

[Chris Brown:]
All my ladies put yo hands up (yeah... Taylor Gang!)
All my ladies put yo hands up (you know we had to uh, pass up some papers on this one let's go.)
If you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (Hahahaa!)
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb
Ladies put yo hands up if you that bomb-bomb (You know I had 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 if ya booty I'm a conquer
Ain't no 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 motha
Licking her lips, a bad muddasucker
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 (Ohh-oh!)
Know you got that bomb-bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb (Ohh-oh!)
Ladies put ya hands up if you got that bomb-bomb (Ohh-oh!)
Girl you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb

[Wiz Khalifa:]
Uh, 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
R-R-Rolling papers like propellors blowing mozarella
Lotta niggas in the club, who cares? I'm the realest
Tell the waitress uhh, we gon need mo' cases
And when you think the money's gone I'm spending mo' faces
She with homeboy, but she want this
6 cars, 8 chains, 3 cribs, 1 Wiz

[Chris Brown:]
You know shawty thick in her hips, Cold than a motha (Hahahaaaa)
Licking her lips, (Yeah!) a bad muddasucka (UH!)
Apple looking so ripe, she make me want a piece (What up Breezy?)
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'm 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 shorty

She thick in her hips, Cold than a motha
Licking her lips, a bad muddasucka
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 that bomb-bomb
Girl you got that bomb-ba-bomb-ba-bomb-bomb-bomb

[Wiz Khalifa:]
Yup, so when yo bitch smell like that good weed man blame it on me. Don't even blame Breezy man blame that shit on me man!


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