Rich Brian – Who That Be (Official Music Video)

Rich Brian – Who That Be (prod. Sihk)

Purchase: https://CXSHXNLY.lnk.to/whothatbeID

Head In The Clouds, an album by 88rising, coming July 20th, 2018

88rising Head In The Clouds Music & Arts Festival
September 22, 2018 | Los Angeles State Historic Park
Tickets: http://hive.co/l/hitcla

88 Degrees & Rising North American Tour
Tickets: http://88rising.com

Brian


https://www.instagram.com/brianimanuel

88 Rising

https://www.instagram.com/88rising
https://www.facebook.com/88rising
http://88rising.com/

88 is double happiness

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Comment (20)

  1. Yo bitch on me but you can never do nothing
    'Cuz yo momma raised a pussy
    Everytime I walk to the drop top, can't help but
    Close my eyes 'cuz my whip so glossy
    God damn bitch, I don't smoke no gas
    I don't pop no Xans hella cake
    I just need that ass don't worry bout no mans
    Look at me, look at he, you don't wanna fuck with we
    Hit the streets roll on me, you gon' end up in the sea

    7:30 wake up skrt up in the lobby then proceed to flee
    All my people riding in the back seat on a killing spree
    Wait, who that be? ready on the count of 3
    Squeeze the G, leave the scene
    Bouncin' like the trampoline

    Getting bread earn income (man)
    Spend it on this Balmain
    Working all night I might run into the Bat(man)
    I don't see no such thing as a motherfucking bro mane
    You ain't fucking slick if you think you in my team mane

    We gon' pull up on the kids with a flat brim cap and the tats get the brick
    And I don't give a fuck hit em with the damn dicks
    Man, hold up, pause, now they red like Santa Claus
    I'm a G bet there's something wrong with me
    All these mans on the ground, lookin' like the dead ass sea
    Yeah, pull up on me, sip a high-t, till I OD
    I don't really give a fuck no more b
    Skrrt skrrt onamonapee, bitch Grand Prix
    Pull up on a fuckin' enemy, 3rd degree
    (Goddam) now I'mma go right back to the crib (to the crib bitch)
    And leave the fuckin' country with a brick (loudpack)

    I'd call the cops on myself if I can, (if I can)
    This shit too crazy need the fuckin' ambulance (ambulance)
    Don't wear no jackets, I just wear that metal vest (skrrt skrrt)
    Got all this money but these bitches unimpressed (yea, yea, yea)

    Getting bread earn income (man)
    Spend it on this Balmain
    Working all night I might run into the Bat(man)
    I don't see no such thing as a motherfucking bro mane
    You ain't fucking slick if you think you in my team mane

    7:30 wake up skrt up in the lobby then proceed to flee
    All my people riding in the back seat on a killing spree
    Wait, who that be? ready on the count of 3
    Squeeze the G, leave the scene
    Bouncin' like the trampoline
    Yeah

  2. Yo bitch on me but you can never do nothing
    'Cuz yo momma raised a pussy
    Everytime I walk to the drop top, can't help but
    Close my eyes 'cuz my whip so glossy
    God damn bitch, I don't smoke no gas
    I don't pop no Xans hella cake
    I just need that ass don't worry bout no mans
    Look at me, look at he, you don't wanna fuck with we
    Hit the streets roll on me, you gon' end up in the sea

    7:30 wake up skrt up in the lobby then proceed to flee
    All my people riding in the back seat on a killing spree
    Wait, who that be? ready on the count of 3
    Squeeze the G, leave the scene
    Bouncin' like the trampoline

    Getting bread earn income (man)
    Spend it on this Balmain
    Working all night I might run into the Bat(man)
    I don't see no such thing as a motherfucking bro mane
    You ain't fucking slick if you think you in my team mane

    We gon' pull up on the kids with a flat brim cap and the tats get the brick
    And I don't give a fuck hit em with the damn dicks
    Man, hold up, pause, now they red like Santa Claus
    I'm a G bet there's something wrong with me
    All these mans on the ground, lookin' like the dead ass sea
    Yeah, pull up on me, sip a high-t, till I OD
    I don't really give a fuck no more b
    Skrrt skrrt onamonapee, bitch Grand Prix
    Pull up on a fuckin' enemy, 3rd degree
    (Goddam) now I'mma go right back to the crib (to the crib bitch)
    And leave the fuckin' country with a brick (loudpack)

    I'd call the cops on myself if I can, (if I can)
    This shit too crazy need the fuckin' ambulance (ambulance)
    Don't wear no jackets, I just wear that metal vest (skrrt skrrt)
    Got all this money but these bitches unimpressed (yea, yea, yea)

    Getting bread earn income (man)
    Spend it on this Balmain
    Working all night I might run into the Bat(man)
    I don't see no such thing as a motherfucking bro mane
    You ain't fucking slick if you think you in my team mane

    7:30 wake up skrt up in the lobby then proceed to flee
    All my people riding in the back seat on a killing spree
    Wait, who that be? ready on the count of 3
    Squeeze the G, leave the scene
    Bouncin' like the trampoline
    Yeah

  3. Yo bitch on me but you can never do nothing

    'Cuz yo momma raised a pussy

    Everytime I walk to the drop top, can't help but

    Close my eyes 'cuz my whip so glossy

    God damn bitch, I don't smoke no gas

    I don't pop no Xans hella cake

    I just need that ass don't worry bout no mans

    Look at me, look at he, you don't wanna fuck with we

    Hit the streets roll on me, you gon' end up in the sea

    7:30 wake up skrt up in the lobby then proceed to flee

    All my people riding in the back seat on a killing spree

    Wait, who that be? ready on the count of 3

    Squeeze the G, leave the scene

    Bouncin' like the trampoline

    Getting bread earn income (man)

    Spend it on this Balmain

    Working all night I might run into the Bat(man)

    I don't see no such thing as a motherfucking bro mane

    You ain't fucking slick if you think you in my team mane

    We gon' pull up on the kids with a flat brim cap and the tats get the brick

    And I don't give a fuck hit em with the damn dicks

    Man, hold up, pause, now they red like Santa Claus

    I'm a G bet there's something wrong with me

    All these mans on the ground, lookin' like the dead ass sea

    Yeah, pull up on me, sip a high-t, till I OD

    I don't really give a fuck no more b

    Skrrt skrrt onamonapee, bitch Grand Prix

    Pull up on a fuckin' enemy, 3rd degree

    (Goddam) now I'mma go right back to the crib (to the crib bitch)

    And leave the fuckin' country with a brick (loudpack)

    I'd call the cops on myself if I can, (if I can)

    This shit too crazy need the fuckin' ambulance (ambulance)

    Don't wear no jackets, I just wear that metal vest (skrrt skrrt)

    Got all this money but these bitches unimpressed (yea, yea, yea)

    Getting bread earn income (man)

    Spend it on this Balmain

    Working all night I might run into the Bat(man)

    I don't see no such thing as a motherfucking bro mane

    You ain't fucking slick if you think you in my team mane

    7:30 wake up skrt up in the lobby then proceed to flee

    All my people riding in the back seat on a killing spree

    Wait, who that be? ready on the count of 3

    Squeeze the G, leave the scene

    Bouncin' like the trampoline

    Yeah

  4. From the rise of Jazz and Rock & Roll, Black popular music has been the greatest export of American culture. Your energy is mass powerful when a middle-upper class Chinese_Indonesian teenager learns English and is moved to imitate the tiny fraction of your culture he has access to.

Comments are closed.

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