Chris Brown "Remember Me" paroles

Remember Me

[Hook: Chris Brown & (Tyga)]Girl you know we got the timeGot that pussy on my mindLater on, what are we doing?I know you're ready, show that assGirl you looking so bad, getting horny watching you do itGirl I wanna kiss it, while you kissin your girlfriendsI wanna see a whole lot of licking, that's a memory(Yeah, bet I make that pussy remember me)

[Verse 1: Chris Brown]I be banging all on that beat808, she got the bass when her booty shakeShe got her friends with her and they a sight to seeAll that ass, don't let it go to wasteAll this Hennessy, the liquor, 'bout to penetrateWhile I'm pushing Lamborghini's on the interstateI long-dick her, I'ma go for hoursYou minute-made like lemonadeI'm fresh as fuck in these MargielasI skate past a nigga better than veteransBipolar cold, give me the medicineMy chain too bright, no Thomas EdisonWhen I pull it out, bitch nervousBetter ride this wave - bitch, surf itGirl, you better keep them legs openThe only thing you close is these curtainsAnd she only got time for a nigga if I take her out to eatA nigga really gotta motivateMan, that's too much work for the pussyI don't work for the pussy, nigga really don't communicateI'd rather lick it like a dinner plateI'd rather keep my money in a safeBitch, I ain't got time to playI need it now, not a minute late

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Tyga]Drive your head to a king, niggaDream house, my dream's biggerGot a deck of cards if my heart switch upAce of spades, her eyes lit upDiamonds glitter in my car, thrillerShe pray for me, that's god willinI'm hard to break my boss prisonHer new name : Ass-ZillaShe love a nigga and that pussy tightCome thru, fuck you all nightSome foreplay, that's all rightBut she rather do number 69High notes, it's prime timeOn a couch, hit it from behindHit you with that large strokeNow she fiendin' for that good dope, yeahThat's my bae, she cook and clean and I got it madeHandcuff like she a slave, touch ya, let ya tongue tasteSo high, no ceiling spaceNumb to it, can't feel her faceYeah, she numb to it, can't feel her face

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Chris Brown]Blowing up my line on the cellularShe wanna lock a nigga down, on the regularTalking crazy to me like she own the dickBut I don't trust her as far as I can throw the bitchMomma told me to find a keeperBut I switch like designer sneakersA girl with the finest featuresEvery nigga wanna talk to herBut I got her first, finders keepersViolins in the back, is my theme musicHer ass on my mind, I dream bootyAny nigga tryna fuck my bitchThen its off with his head, how kings do itMy rings rubyRed bandana, I stay woopin'Got too many cribs, I stay movin'Three Lambos, I stay coupin'Yeah, but you don't hear me thoughVirginia to the WestsideMy car foreign, the girl sit on the left sideSmokin' weed on the plane, that's the best highShe gotta sign the waiver 'fore I let her flyIt's helipads on the boatChilling in the South of France, Saint-Tropez, Nice, MonacoBut nothing compare to what's in my pantsGirl, stop playing!

[Hook]

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