[Intro: Solo Lucci, Chris Brown]
Wrist, trill, wrist, trill
Wrist, trill, wrist, drippin’ and drippin’
Wrist (Skrrt, skrrt), tip (Woo), four, tip (Woo)
Wrist
Drippin’, drippin’, drippin’, drippin’, drippin’, drippin’, drippin’, drippin’ (Woo)
[Verse 1: Solo Lucci]
My wrist ’bout thirty-below (Low)
Why would I be worried ’bout hoes? (Why would?)
And if you ain’t ever leanin’, swervin’ in traffic
You ain’t sip that dirty before (That dirty-dirty)
Catch me tippin’ on 4’s (Skrrt)
Diamonds drippin’, prolly sippin’ on 4’s
Ferragamo slippers, dipped ’em in gold (Woo!)
With so many women, think I’m pimpin’ them hoes
[Pre-Chorus: Chris Brown]
‘Cause my wrist still drippin’, 44’s still tip
In the cut with my hittas (Gang)
No, they do not miss
I’m a champagne-pourin’ nigga
I love big asses and tits (Show me them titties)
And if you’re here just to witness, I just promise this
[Chorus: Chris Brown, Solo Lucci]
Hold my wrist (Skrrt, skrrt), tip, four (Four), tip
Wrist, drip (Drip), 44’s tip
Hold my wrist (Wrist), tip (Tip), four (Four), tip (Tip)
Wrist (Wrist), drip (Drip), 44’s tip (Tippin’, tippin’, tippin’, tippin’, tippin’)
[Verse 2: Chris Brown]
No, he not ballin’ like us
Who the fuck he think he is? (He a lame ass fuck nigga)
You gotta come to my city
You gotta see how we live (Pull up with the drug dealers)
You should just come on the bed, I should just fuck you right now
Oh, just forget what I said, I just be thinkin’ out loud
Thinkin’ out loud (Loud), thinkin’ out loud (Loud)
Can I hit it in the mirror? (Yeah) I wanna see your body clearer
Let’s think out loud, think out loud
Got my wrist doin’ eighty-five in a thirty-five, thirty-five, thirty-five
[Chorus: Chris Brown, Solo Lucci]
Wrist, tip, four (Oh), tip (Hold my wrist)
Wrist, drip, 44’s tip (Oh)
Hold my wrist, tip (Hold up), four, tip
Wrist, drip (Hold my), 44’s tip (Skrrt, skrrt)
[Verse 3: Solo Lucci, Chris Brown, Solo Lucci & Chris Brown]
My wrist thirty-below (Woo)
It cost about forty, it’s fifty on me (Ah)
My neck is retarded, but nigga, I’m geeked (Grr)
My bitch is a baller, but she from the streets (Jheese!)
So don’t get her started
Handcuffs like I got arrested, homie (Oh)
Ferragamo’s on me (Oh), got me flexin’ on ’em (Oh)
Mud, mud (Mud), I got all these taxes on me (What?)
Diamonds shinin’, that’s them VVS’s on me
Leanin’ off Actavis (Ah-yeah, Actavis)
Tippin’ on fours
Thinkin’ ’bout when the ho used to sleep on me like mattresses (Mattresses, woah)
But that’s how it go, now I’m gettin’ that dough, and I’m ’bout to count up like it’s calculus (Calculus, actually)
I got my name off that trappin’ shit (Ah, skrrt-skrrt)
But I got the fame off this rappin’ shit (Rappin’ shit, woo)
Now my watch and my chain is immaculate (Oh)
[Chorus: Chris Brown]
Bitch, go ‘head, look at my
Wrist, tip (Hold my), four, tip (Hold my)
Wrist, drip (Oh, hold my), 44’s tip (Hold my)
Hold my wrist, tip (Hold my), four, tip (Wrist, hold my)
Wrist, drip (Hold my, yeah), 44’s tip (Hold my)
Wrist, tip, four, tip (Oh, hold my)
Wrist, drip, 44’s tip (Oh, ha, ooh)
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