Lyrics for Antidote (Remix) by French Montana :
[Intro: French Montana]
Montana, Breezy, you know what it is when you hear that haa

[Verse 1: Chris Brown]
Don’t you open up that window
Chrome .45 with that extendo
Off that batch of molly, pus*y, all we know
In that Lamborghini, how fast does your ‘rari go?
All my n*ggas trippin’, you might catch a body flow
She pus*y poppin’, I’ma tip her, that’s the way I roll
Told me thots are crazy, told her I’ve been here before
Her man came home and now I’m creepin’ out that window
I ain’t with the playin’ games or sneakin’
She just wanna twerk it on the weekend
I’m f*ckin’ with a bad Puerto Rican
pus*y so wet, my di*k a ten like the deep end
We in Las Vegas so you know we never sleepin’
100 bottles and you know I snuck my weed in

[Verse 2: French Montana & Chris Brown]
Montana, haaa (ow!)
Go to LIV on Sunday (ayy, ayy)
Wake up and go to court on Monday (haa)
I just met an actress this week (oh my God)
She came through the crib with six freaks (oh my God)
I’ve been trappin’ since fifteen (yeah, yeah)
Talkin’ back when bricks was fifteen (haa)
Don’t you open up that window (naah)
I don’t chase b*tches, I just pimp hoes (pimpin’)
Talkin’ ’bout that brown bag is all we know (oh my God)
Hollywood b*tches always wanna smoke (hot, Hollywood)
I just made 3 mil this week (this week)
In the streets, Montana hotter than fish grease (haa, ayy, ayy)
All the b*tches in my face, paparazzis takin’ pictures
That’s that Californiacation, I just need my medication
Talkin’ reggie for the patiences, sippin’ yellow, purple, Lakers
Got green and blue faces, talkin’ crib, 50 acres, ooh (ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Call up your b*tches, come f*ck with the squad
All of my n*ggas, we roll like the mob (haa)
Tell ’em broke n*ggas don’t get on ya job (haa)
b*tch wanna pillow talk, working a job
Hit up Miami, woke up in Atlanta
Hop out the Porshe and I jump the Phantom (skrrt)
Hop off your b*tch and I pose for the camera
You n*ggas can’t stand us
She up and let us through that window (oh my God)
Clip bottles long as a Lambo’ (ayy, ayy, ayy)
I’m talkin’ brown bags is all we now
Them Hollywood b*tches wanna smoke (haa)