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Artist: Chris Brown & Tyga f/ Jay 305, T.I.
Album:  Fan of a Fan: The Album
Song:   Bunkin'
Typed by: Cedmaster3K

[Intro: Chris Brown]
My real bitches like, 100
Keep this shit 100, 100, yeah

[Chorus: Chris Brown]
My bitch she bunkin' (she bunkin') she went from nothin' now she somethin'
My bitch bunkin' (bunkin') she only clap that ass for me
My bitch bunkin' (my bitch bunkin') I taught her how to whip a ki
Now my trap jumpin' (yeah yeah) she bring that dough to me
how I want it (how I want it) in fifties, hundreds, all that (all that)
Money is money, my nigga, even small stacks (yeah)
We on right now so you may have to wait, my nigga (wait, my nigga)
I throw that cash in the air, this shit feel great, my nigga

[Jay 305]
I don't know if you know how it feel
to ride out in Sunset watchin' the sunset (bad bitch)
in California, Los Angeles my nigga (Jay 305, uhh)
What's happenin' though?

My bitch grind (my bitch grind)
My boo now know I'm thuggin' from the slums (I'm from the slums)
She know I'm in the streets, she hold my guns (she hold my guns)
Ain't seen my P.O. in weeks, fuckin' months, told her hold my spot down, I'm on the run
I got my motherfuckin' J's on, finna hit Arkansas
Get these OXYs off, come back to L.A., wipe my case
Where I'm from it's bang or ball, fucking bitches like yo misses
Flip em' like a case of raw, back to to bid'ness flipping digits
Splitting Swishers with my niggas, came from nothin', from nothin' to somethin'
Know my struggle, my momma know I'm thugging
Coming out the county jail smell like public, yo momma love it
Got your main bitch on my side on time, nigga my bitch she bunkin'


Hey, hey, now don't it feel great
When you ridin' through the hood and you known as Bill Gates? (and I'm known as Bill Gates)
Yeah, with a super bad bitch in a drop Lamborghini
Make a home girl hate
Just a trap nigga known to have a quarter mil' a day
Nigga proof that sellin' drugs on the corner still pay
I make a hundred Gs, spend 40 on ki's
Put the rest away just in case I caught a real case (what)
Yeah, and I ain't gon' stop
Teachin' you the shit that you ain't know about
On my side when I rhyme, think it ain't no Glock
Stop cuffin' that bitch like she ain't no thot
Hey, racks on that ass, think it ain't gon drop?
Even if not, bet the brain on fire
Nigga fourteen years, I remain on fire
Men do, women too but the game don't lie
Hey, still up to the same old shit
Bang on the pussy nigga they ain't no shit
Stop playin' with the pussy, you know you don't want this
Shut the fuck down or yo ass gon' get it
In public, it's nothin'
I'm right back in my bunkin'
Ain't what you do, it's how you does it
and we does it cousin


AHH~! Make me harder, miss your daughter, she just wanna lay and party
Be my naughty girl in college, fuck you all the time, I'm tired
Wake up on it, it's that, early morning, tap that wet-wet (woo!)
You know a nigga love breakfast, I'ma bite that, got money in the mattress where I hide it at (yeah)
Countin' all of that, fuck all of them niggas, they don't know what to do with all that
As a matter fact, get on my lap, put you on the map, take you out the trap
From a condo to a larger state, got double gates if I catch a case
Would you wait on me and bill me up again? Is so

[Chris Brown]
Yeah my niggas thuggin', poppin' rubber bands, money in my hand
Double cuppin' with the Sprite, mix it up with the Xans
We some zombies here tonight, slow motion, your bitch choosy
She say "Don't they call you Breezy?" I told that bitch "I'm out here coolin"
With a 100, million, dollars, got a, 100, on my, chain
She got a million, dollar, body, with a, 100, dollar, brain
Girl your booty like a pumpkin (like a pumpkin!)
And my bitch, she be bunkiiin'