This is a song about "Carmen brown"

They tryna get it in, we gotta point 'em out

Well guess wat chris brown u cant push us around

Tryin to torture em to tell, i'm gettin mailbut ain't nobody sayin much, the same old nuts

I shoot hollows at those whose souls are hollow and keep my livin room full of brown bottles

Angle these beats like a pentagon

Coffee brown as the bosom i flew in on

To show off my bars pick apart the carcass of deceased

A brown zombie appeared in front of me hoping it could have a feast

You passed out, bitch you ain't even listening

Brown on a canvas of black, i'm stenciling/

I smoke a lb when i get it from brown.

I'mma catch you next time around

My all gold rolly or the

Bullshit for lunch, brown bag nigga

And you know i cant stop now when i rap i paint your whole top brown

Look this whole time, we was comin from separate towns to hold down