Real Hip Hop Shit Chris Brown (Ft. Kevin McCall)

[Verse 1: Chris Brown]
Look, illest of the illest, I'm a sick soul
A little margarita blend, so I sip slow
Too talented type of nigga, I'm kinda schizo
But never out of my element, I let that fifth go
Shots in the club, panic at the disco
She of that MDMA, that's from Frisco
Hella chips, call me Mister Nabisco
Is that your bitch? 'Cause she won't let my go wrist go
My technique is to sex freaks
Skinnydip with hot models, bitches, and lesbies
I'ma put my tongue on they soul like a ESPY
But they don't know they scum to my soul, they just sexy
I'ma play dumb, play that role in the SV, it's ridiculous
And can I get a girl with real ass and tits?
Most respect in the world to my real niggas
'Cause all them fake niggas make me wanna kill niggas
I stand alone, fuck that gang bang shit
They Nintendo blowin' niggas 'cause this game ain't shit
Uh, it's relevant that I'm better than these veterans
They sleepin' on me like I been givin' them sedatives
Sometimes I wish I had better friends and better peers
'Cause I know when that cheddar ends, they disappear

[Interlude: Kevin McCall]
Damn, where they go?
Where they go? Where they go, huh?