Lyrics:
jingle
That you hear on your radio
But shit's about to hit the shingle
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, no
(Er-ra) oh-ah, (er-ra) oh-ah
(Er-ra) oh-ah, (er-ra)
played on the radio
It's a no-brainer" Both
Songs are slow-burning, sensual
Ballads that seem slightly at odds with
Meek's traditionally louder, brasher
come around jockin
On my tip when on the radio my recors be rockin
Don't come frontin askin me for a pound
You ain't invited means you simply ain't
to them
And now they play me like a fuckin' amateur
I got a life, yeah, I got a right, yeah
Cancel my shows, that shit ain't right (shows)
How they gon'
to Tennessee
In the club is that a ten I see
In the club is that a ten I see
See man panicking, freeze like a mannequin
Take his girl home I’ll hit then I’m
and a throwback, so wack
I hate doing radio but I do it well
And it's done 'cause the pushing for N9ne and crew to sell
But I get up on the establishment
Never
blackout we're
Wanted in the club
They say I live too fast but
I say I'm livin' good
Spend a lot of cash lifted
Trucks out in the woods
I'm swervin' off
On The Dubz
D Dubz D D like If Your Mum's On The Dubz
Clubs See Cheese, Like Subz On The Dubz
Hear My Voice In A Club On The Dubz
Drop Like A Guy In The Pub
P.E., I miss group's like Rage
This pop shit's making me physically sick
Obama did 8 years 'cuz
Why you singing bout bottles and clubs?
This shit
alone, or we can go back and forth
But first things first, I'ma admit
Ima tear your ass up when you let me hit
W,B,I,T,E,C,H, ain't that a bitch radio
know this bit
You already know this bitch
You're singing their songs and shit
I got them in a club like, got them screaming out my name, they're gonna do
sell your scape shows
You ain't nothing but a fancy fake hoe
Flipped yo lid, emotional like damn bro,
Amateur, wanna fake pro?
Shake and bake tho?
fast like D Doubs on the dubs
My dubs are deep dissing mums on the dubs
Your dubs are cheap like subs on the dubs
Hear my voice in the clubs on the dubs
+I+ know? Huh! I'm lookin at you right now
You ain't dancin in the club, you in your car, sittin down
You in the crib, on the low
You got them
two chains or a wrist watch
Radio rap is shit
That ain't HipHop
And everybody wanna talk about what shit cost
In the club buying bottles make the Cris
Chucky in the trunk
Trunk
Next thing you know Chucky be up in this club
Club
Chucky cut you up
Up
Chucky fuck you up
Up
Try to rob my whip (yea right)
You
ass from all angles
[Guy] She's unbelievable and she wit
[ChB] I-N-C
[Verse 1]
We throw a club in the clique nigga
I need a thug and a drink
Scream
[9th Prince]
Yoaw! Whattup
This right here, is an explosion
For all the radio stations
Across United Nations, United States
Word up, turn this up
once the change come
From the temple of Hip Hop
Where Knowledge Reigns Supreme
My vision is of love
While the club is all they seein
Dig my feet in
fucking ear he disappear
Nigga hear my song on the radio
I step up in the club with that 50 hoe flexing Aye
Eye hits aye on blood nem
If a nigga slide I hit
like a drug
And when the radio don't play me and they show me no love
I could give a flying fuck like the Mile High Club
I been blessed to chin check
rule, conformity becomes the only security.
Fear is a powerful weapon against human development.
Cowering in our temples of self there's little chance
And god told me I ain't putin a foot up in heaven, cold world.
How you gonna be a player with no girl?
Shirly temples in the club, had a fight, now no
(Verse 2)
And with mad smoke came the need for entertainment
But Hiphop radio was now playing some strange hits
Clubs gettin closed, cause money was tight
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