Butch Dawson - Boyz 2 Men (feat. Butch Dawson) lyrics

[Intro] "Darlin' I I can't explain Where did we lose our way Girl, it's driving me insane And I know I just need one more chance To prove my love to you And if you come back to me I'll guarantee That I'll never let you go" "Can we go back to the day that I was [?] Can you tell me how a perfect love goes on? Can somebody tell me how to get things back to the way they used to be? Oh God give me the reason I'm [?] abandon me" Uh, nah Uh, can't hear myself Uh, but it's cool Uh, Butchy Woah, check I don't need to know Imma just go at it Imma just go at a motherf**er [?] motherf**er Motherf**ers out the way [?] Butchy [Verse 1: Butch Dawson] Ok, what up Ok, what up On my sh** Put my foot up Work that wrist Watch me cook up Where's your b**h? Damn, I took her Ok, what up Ok, what up Don't just run up Gotta put the gun up Ok what up Grind 'til the son up All black Hummer? Smokin' on stunna Too stone cold get froze by fridgidair K visionairs got flare from the gutter All black timbs and potato Bread bu*ters Stompin' your click I do sh** that you could've Ok, what up It's no other Still with the gang but I'm solo, brother Funny how black is Considered as colored Ok, what up Ok, what up Butchy, baby Don't lose yourself You would do you if you knew yourself But you're doing n***as like the man Still catching heat like a tan Ok, what up What's the plan? We mobbin', we robbin', we raging? Damn I aim at you scholars my sh** won't jam Then hand with my partners Yeah, that's the fam [Instrumental Break] (In this motherf**er) [Verse 2: JPEGMAFIA] Moonwalk on a n***a face Slap your man then catch the 8th 2Chainz on my side piece I know real shottas They don't f** with Drake Telling on me cause I'm keeping pace Sus boys always take the bait Sissy n***as got no hope Hitting high notes when they catch a case Damn boy, how much bread you made? Veteran but you never paid Trinidadian or Dominican I'm protected when I'm going out of state Double up, b**h I guess I'm ma** Real a** but the hair fake Once again I'm in another state With another gun In your n***a face Call me Mikey dread Sippin' suda fed Whoop a n***a like case then Talking to the feds HIt 'em with lead Take his picture like a liscense This expensive sh** A different kind of lick My trigger finger itching Right hand f** a scraper boy Like him I'm spinning on him like bison [Outro: Freaky (chopped and screwed)] I'm no Bounty, Paper towel Ay, ow Spin [?] on myself Side of me make you say Boy, you [?] make you say Boy, you love [?] self I don't know a god dang thing about mental health