Lyrics:
I'm sorta late and I'm stallin'
I'm Pourin' grape and like Florida state
Got a court date and I'm balling
Club be jumpin' up when I rhyme
OG's bumpin'
pump this W.A.S.T.E music over time we stay relevant 2099 then I let the Alpine play bumping that new hit BIGHAND-NO And FAT K this ain't no shit that
just being honest
Washington Jefferson Lincoln Hamilton Jackson grant franklin
Could've re'd up but chu got the club up nikka what was you thanking
timeline, stay the fuck up out of mine (uh, stay out it, go)
fourteen, I got my first halftime (fourteen)
broke in the club for an Alpine (Alpine
Gone way to soon
And you're gonna be missed
How dare you kill Club Penguin
Can't believe that you'd do this
Bring Back Club Penguin
I am so damn
Ninth grade, quarterback, Washington High (Ninth grade)
When you in the trap, all these rules apply (Listen nigga)
Keep it in your lap, not
be on that
So baby where the love at
Give this to my DJ man and
We gon' take the club back
Rolling round the city where the plug at
New to the city
and see me
(Come and see me) Come and see me
Whatever you need, little buddy, come and see me
I got two floors in my trunk, club lights in my trunk
I
I LOVE YOU DEAR
(Jack Moran)
« © '71 Alpine Music »
Please put down the paper turn off the TV
And darling look over my way
And I know that lately
ain't talkin bout lickin it
Ion know what he talkin about
It's alot of cute BQs in the club
If I have it my way, we gone fuck shit up
My nigga in the cut,
Hit up “Da Strip Club”
Whole bunch of whores
We throwing them dollas
They craving some more
All for the washingtons
She kneel on the flo
& im
Dis might bust a hole right through they alpines, push up tinted V's
What you need, all night I'm outside, it's 2-10 a key
I'm finna have deez four Rick
(hey)
Crib out in Calabasas, crib out in Alpine (hey)
Chopper style, chopper style (hot boy)
Hot boy, hundred in the chop boy, hundred in the box boy
good old bug
We do a house party, what the fuck is a club
And S.A. they sold most of the drugs
Laugh a million, hell yeah we thug, we getting money,
Splacka splacka, splacka splacka, splacka splacka
Shot him anyway, motherfucker I don't play
They in the woods with clubs and candles understand G
Only one more Hypnotic, and that's when he shot it
I'm not lookin' for love, up in the club
But I want to go home with you, girl
[Verse 1]
(Manny Fresh)
One
Two
One, Two, Three, Go
She don't want no love song
She wanna wanna bass jam
Yeah
She wanna make love in the club
to a
Bass jam
Yeah
She wanna
Bitch don't call my phone I decline
Smoking on that no alpine
My left wrist so cold what's the time
I asked her for permission to let me inside her
cooking that fishscale, like a salmon
Bae I could take you to Switzerland like Yah Mon
And all of your trap spots beating like alpine
Do your fucking
This for all my players out there ridin'
Spinners I don't care where you at, the club parking lot the expressway
Whatever what I want you to do
This for all my players out there ridin'
Spinners, I don't care where you at, the club parking lot, the expressway
Whatever, what I want you to do
This for all my players out there ridin'
Spinners, I don't care where you at, the club parking lot, the expressway
Whatever, what I want you to do
check
Got a bad chick check
Turn Up
(Getting it poppin' let's get it)
But you can find us at the club
Standing on the couch section full of pretty savage
recognized in momma's eyes
I'm in the trench coat for the skies
I keep the forty-five on my waistline
Shoot your block down with the Glock like a alpine
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