[Chorus – ×2:]
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
He was talkin' shit, we put a clap into that boy.
[Verse 1: Malice]
I heard they snitchin' on a player, man, say it ain't so,
Even as a youngin they consigned me to blow,
Which explains why I'm worth my weight in gold,
While they was takin' baby steps from an 8 to an O.
Word in the streets that the envy is me,
Enough ice on that watch to make a nigga lose sleep,
Magnified face help the bitch see clearly,
9 on the waist, hit the bitch up severely.
I'm known for the flip of that cocaina,
I'm heavy in the street like the 7th series Beemer, man,
Hit 'em with the Nina, man,
Or that 45 guaranteed to lean ya, man!
I'm the reason that your block is vacant,
Malicious will hit you just to make a statement,
Bitch, Clipse and Cash Money: who ain't rich?
Don't compare me to you, nigga, you ain't this.
[Chorus – ×2:]
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
He was talkin' shit, we put a clap into that boy.
[Verse 2: Birdman]
Stunna and Patty Cake, the worldwide Pusha,
Birdman, nigga, leave the guns in the bushes,
Been shittin' up bricks, unload 'em to Gucci,
Boss of the ghetto with the round-shape cookie.
Shit one, throw one, nigga, flood the block,
If I don't go to jail, nigga, birds gon' flock.
Nigga sittin' on the toilet, bitch, get off the pot!
The bird just landed so the hood gonna rot.
New whips, big chips, the Prada, Gucci shit,
Bought mami a fly Benz, the wide skinny lips,
She takes my flight, she holds my weight,
While the po-po staked out from state to state.
It ain't nothing to a baller, baby,
Pay the cost, big money, heavy weight, Birdman, hood boss, baby,
Steppin' on my line, I'll show a little something,
Make Corleone come out,
And then the black crow will touch ya.
[Chorus – ×2:]
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
He was talkin' shit, we put a clap into that boy.
[Verse 3: Pusha T]
Yuugh!
Another soul lost,
Had to make his shirt match my oxblood-colored Porsche.
Yuugh, the rims match of course,
Blood hit his Timbs, it reminded me of them.
Glistenin', wrist on chilla,
Gun in the same palm of gorgeous killa,
I put this on my Lord, my niece was 4 when she felt chinchilla.
I passed the chauffeur that shit, that made fiends rise from the dead like «Thriller»,
Gangster, hustler,
At night still found time to kiss my mother.
Live like I'm dreamin', kick my feet up,
Gun poked my waist, remind me of my demon.
So quit your yappin' before I get to clappin'
And have your body parts mix and matching, fella.
[Chorus – ×2:]
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
Brrr! What happened to that boy?
He was talkin' shit, we put a clap into that boy.