Lyrics:
Dubai, I'm quite a naughty dude
It don't matter what year it is
'Cause every year I pull up to them clubs and I bring them back to 1942
And every girl
off, push 'em off)
(Get 'em up)
Well, pour out the Hen' and Coke and fire up that dro'
It's Ludacris off Old National and Godby Road
The block is
it
Drunk an eighth then I drop dead I don't think that they know I'm on it
The red light I got stopped there I could tell 12 by only
Showed 'em my
twenty-five words
And uh, I couldn't do it, I wrote out five pages
And uh, I have it here
It's uh, have it by accident, actually, ha
But-but I, I-I'd like
ass
You up out of here, nigga
By murder, or by hardcore styles
It took hardcore styles for your ass to walk
You walkin' nigga
You don't even come out no
Came to the club in all black with the whole squad
Got me lookin like batman
If she wanna throw it back I'mma tap that
Hold up pause I don't want no
sabatoge your killer vibe, I made a joke
So I can hide what it is I really feel inside
But in your mind, I be wildin' in them high
Out of my mind
[2Pac/Makaveli Speaking]
Yo 'Law!
Is it cool if a nigga just get fucked up for this one?
(Sample from "Survival of the Fittest" by Mobb Deep)
I'm
R.I.P we just killed the club
Drank patron out the bottle almost killed a thug
Right now I'm so high I can't feel the drugs
Too many haters in
'cause damage
God damn it, you can't stand it
Take heed from French Montana and don't panic
I'm a boss in these streets like William and Rameek
That's
had to walk and had to catch a ride? (what's up?)
The bus just passed by, but you wasn't there on time
The club just let out and you not even fly
skrt skrt)
No matter long as you get there (get there)
Just don't let it drive you crazy
Get that moola, power
You on fire tonight
You can get it
don't think I'm ever gonna smoke no more
And I don't think I'm ever gonna drink no more
But fuck it, bartender you can give me one more
(We in the club
She put the pipe down, but every year she was sober
Her sons heart simultaneously grew colder
He started hanging out selling bags in the projects
the crit's
All because I covered you with a jug of piss
When Im bored of bolt-action, my bow will do
I'm running out of places to put holes in you
When it
[Hook 1: Triple Seven]
We're goin' out to the club tonight
Let Fli Fat Funk Playa frost your ice
Got a Zima in the cup and I'm feelin' alright
Got it
stressing like 'oh shit'
That's the shit that I don't like
Non-rappin' rappers in the booth and they don't write
Fuckin' stupid ass rappers
Acting out
you
(Chorus)
Yeah
clways doing what I'm feeling if it's there in my gut
That's why I put a lot of thought into the people I trust
L don't put a lot
fire, she my lil propane
Rideee don’t stop no brakes
[Verse 2]
Ride don’t stop no brakes
How you work it baby had to put you in a frame
No girl, no girl
the club like
I got him screaming out my name
They're going to do it
Say, Alex
Alex
Say my name, bitch
Better say my name
Say, Alex
Alex
If you want it
of fire, I'm finna spit it at you
No tattoos, just ? and other drugs
You don't love me just for that, well I bet you my mother does
What up 'cause, we can do
It's 3:30 in the morning and we still up
Just chilling by the island playing flip cup (Yeah)
Couple broads in the bathroom, fixin they makeup
Then we
Tryin' to make it, but never ever will
But never ever will because niggas is like, we out here naked
Always by ourself, though
Hit the blunt so I can get
a triple choke
And it won't hurt my throat, nope!
Chinky eyed, just ridin' n vibin'
On that real fire
Be high for two-three hours
And I'm cool wit' A-I,
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