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(uh-uh)

Culture
How the fuck you fuckboys ain't gon' act like Migos ain't reppin' the culture?
They rep the culture from the streets
Fuckboy bow down
number and ya culture
You need nuts in yo face like a poster

If you in a club nigga then shit bang
If you on the streets nigga then shit bang
If you
[Hystwise]
Do you want to take it
To the club oh shit on the floor Cult VI
To the streets to the beats to the boards
To the peeps holla back I can't
name, what's yo number and ya culture
You need nuts in yo face like a poster

If you in a club nigga then shit bang
If you on the streets nigga then
the bullshit that I'm stuck on

If you in a club nigga then shit bang
If you on the streets nigga then shit bang
And if it's what ya need boy, do ya thang
If you
the club, watch him strip in the club
You like ice creams? Get a banana split in the club
No jewelry, you can't wear shit in the club
And that go for every
And that go for every nigga and bitch in the club
So you better take it off 'fore you get in the club
Game and Dogg Pound along side sittin' on dubs
The air fare is prohibitive and I don't speak the language.
The culture's not near or dear to me but I wanna go to Sicily.

Charlie Luciano took
don't mind they business
Strip clubs is our culture we some heavy spenders

Candy Paint and Gold Teeth
Candy Paint and Gold Teeth

Candy Paint and Gold
boomba
The way you windin' it girl don't stop
Come on baby
Gettin' freaky in the club

Girl let me see your body go la la
Now back that thing up and make
(Ey!)
In this club (Ey!)
In this club (Ey!)
In this club (Ey!)

(Listen) Got some friends
Rollin' wit you
Baby then that's cool (That's cool, that's cool)
Don't go down that street
In those shoes that squeak
'cause I get afraid that you might not come home
Careful how you speak
When you're
side
And I think that shorty I've got a thing for you, yeah
Doin' it on purpose, windin' and workin' it
I can tell by the way you lookin' at me, girl

I
side
And I think that shorty I've got a thing for you, yeah
Doin' it on purpose, windin' and workin' it
I can tell by the way you lookin' at me, girl

I
And the city lights will burn you down
And build you up
High above the ground
High above the ground
High above the ground
High above the ground

The club
up on the streets of Gold
Three fireballs on the muddy side

The club queen heard her husband's call
But Lord that queen of diamond's joy
When
dress you said
A culture with shaking breath, I want it now
Well in my mouth the sun will sound 
When that evening sun go down
Down to the lake, past
Everything's silent on Frederick Street
A lonely policeman walks the beat...
Before long everybody'll know
That Fosters club is not the place to go
Unless you
Spirit me a game of stud
Stakes unscarred by limitation
Between a man named Gold and man named Mud

Club filled Gold with greedy vapors
Till his long,
we could take it higher than that
I wonder if these wack niggas realize they wack
And they the reason my people say they tired of rap
Inspired by black
Get 'em, get 'em (yeah yeah!)
Get 'em, get 'em (that's be	 & NYCE)
Get 'em, get 'em (ha ha)
Get 'em, get 'em

[Chorus: KRS-One]
Let's go, let's
cultures
I give respect for what's been borrowed and lent
I know this music comes down from African descent
Because I don't need a magic potion
Let me
, that street money
That street money, that street, that street money

Take the good with the bad, in the club blowin' your last
Ballin' like I violated,
And get ready to clown,
Nigga call up the homies,
It's about to go down

(Chorus)
Keep one eye open,
Cause the streets don't sleep,
If the streets
oughta get 'em smarter 
Baby take my order 
The only shark that swim in Henn no water 
got ya daughter doin' shit you don't think she oughta 
Gave