The Club Lyrics

The Club lyrics

[OC] 

The whole city's under siege when we come through wit guns blazin 

You need to take a seat son, you just started shavin 

Respect ya elders, stay in a child's play 

The monotone flow stayin even wit the bass 

Oh good Lord, we throw it like a javelin toss 

Arrogance is the feature that we added for floss 

Come and get headline, destined to get riches 

From either rappin our as* off or brick shipments 

Cover all regions, makin sure the protty gets spread out 

We talk behind the mac you bust lead out 

Wit next prospect, no particular concept do we follow 

Smooth but yet solid like marble 


[Diamond] 

Niggas ain't f**kin wit D, f**kin wit me 

Lookin at me like 'Yo, what can it be?' 

In the wide body-7 while you suckin the D 

Spent out in the wedge while I'm f**kin for free 

Scared to death like you stuck in a tree 

I'ma stretch your as* out like I'm cuttin the deed 

Frontin like a big man but you stuck in a three 

So you know your floss game ain't nuttin to me 

When the sun hits the cross, yo it's something to see 

R-B, Kid Capri niggas runnin wit me 

Twenty karats on the wrist ain't nuttin to me 

Do you know good frontin to me, nigga 


[Kid Capri] 

Aiyyo Tone, let's Touch these niggas wit the wand 

Then blow up like a bomb 

Made moves faster than the autobond 

The Kid Capri is a institution, and all ya'll niggas is pollution 

Starin up a whole lot of confusion 

It's simple, let's move out all these corn cats 

And disc jock dissin MC's that got the borin raps 

f**k what ya got, grimy niggas don't wanna hear it 

Niggas take it, soon as they near it, you better fear it 

Bronx Bomber, the pretty-fly girl charmer 

The black Italian, the cash keep pilin as I'm smilin 

So hear me now, I bring the thunder plus the rumble 

And I'll step back and watch your whole career just crumble 


[AG] 

Well it's the cheeba steamer, brains on trains, won't eat her neither 

Benz to the plane, off the plane to the Beemer 

Insane and off the meter, in the rain I'll heat up 

And ya'll can't stop my sunshine, f**k one-time 

Got heavy wit gats to push your face back 

Trash-ass album sound like you played it on eight-track 

Rip you from the roots and under 

Triple gooses in the summer 

Mean long guns is producin the thunder 

Convertible Hummers, we sh*t on the glock 

Try to put the roof up, I'll tell Show to piss on the top 

Wrist on the watch, roll wit a click or a glock 
 

Plan on gettin a lot, from spittin or not 

Cool wit niggas that be flippin a lot 

Probably got sh*t on your block 

And if you hate, I'll take it back to '88 (Nigga, get off the top) 

It's two-g's, let's get this money, you wit it or not 

But I'll switch topics like my bit*h wit thongs in the tropics 

Make hits, straight hits 

Perform as long as I got it 

Seven-digits wit my name on the dotted 

Remain Dirty and potted, ya'll know me for the ruckus 

G.D. I only can f**k wit 

Get the dutch and tell Tony to Touch it 


[Party Artie] 

Guns, I tote them things 

Blunts, I smoke them things 

Rhymes, I wrote them things 

It's no such thing, as hoes fron-ting 

We run train, I do my thug thing 

Grab the mic and leave a mud stain 

So get Tide wit bleach when I rhyme wit beats 

Niggas do crimes to eat 

No pork, I don't talk, the nines just speak 

I'm the kind to creep on your block wit the heat cocked 

Got the street locked, smackin niggas out they Reeboks 

It's Party Artie, I get dirty wit the Ewoks 

The infrared hit you in the head from three blocks 

Away, Been There Done That like Dr. Dre 

It Ain't My Fault like Silkk the Shocker say 

Ya'll niggas gots to pay, shots'll spray 

From the Bronx to Far Rock away 

My whole team, strapped like Bokeem 

f**k bein in jail, trapped wit no cream 


[Lord Finesse] 

I be the don that's known to have the style sewn 

More cheese than calzones, give chicks the dialtone 

Build like brownstones when we slaughter your plan 

Touch albums, so hot comes wit a portable fan 

Type to starve the mic when I hog the light 

Lay my life on the lines if the odds is right 

Gettin the, spot and gleam while you plot and scheme 

To stop the team, three words nigga: watch and dream 

You just mad hater, cuz we movin wit dough 

You don't make sense like wearin suede shoes in the snow 

Finesse frontin? Y'all know me, I don't stress nuttin 

Bought your album, that's how I broke the eject button 

Don't stress dudes, we just plot our next move 

Make niggas look stupid like joggin pants wit dress shoes 

The prophet, sh*t john blaze like the tropics 

Type of nigga need a ? just for my pockets 

Don't flex punks, we sex stunts, collect lumps 

You flossin now, you be pardon by next month 

Type of thug, yo I was born to bug 

Waitin for us to fall, nigga join the club, what