paroles de chanson Crash da Club (remix) - Lil' Wyte
(Feat.
Juvenile)
(Lil'
Wyte)
...ah
yeah
Hypnotize
Minds,
wassup
Lil'
Wyte
featuring
Juvenile
Crash
the
mothafuckin'
club,
the
REMIX!
- and
its
goin'
down
for
you
hoes
Like
THIS!...
Multiple
Memphis
scares,
outlining
your
insides
wit'
bars
Grippin'
your
nina
hard,
bitch
my
blood
inha-led
by
heart
When
the
fuck
you
gon'
start,
recognize
that
life
is
a
game
And
it's
always
the
same,
them
dice
you
rolling
ain't
'Bouta
change
I'm
snatchin'
your
chain,
reimbursing
you
with
some
pain
It's
all
over
mane,
in
which
direction
he
makes
a
zane
I
ain't
'bout
that
fame,
I'm
'bout
the
cheese,
and
this
'Bouta
bring
So
fuck
your
hoe
name,
with
you
my
faith
was
lacking
some
things
I'm
starting
all
over
with
composition
sticky
like
doja
And
I
thought
I
told
ya
when
I
come
through
I'm
crushing
like
boulders
I'm
hard
ta
top,
shoot
at
plenty
I
bet
it's
gon'
knock
it
- whatever
I
drop
But
even
your
beef
can't
touch
what
I
got
You
wildin'
or
not,
if
is
so
bring
all
your
beef
ta
the
spot
Hope
you
got
your
glock,
I'm
strapped
with
no
hesi-tant
ta
pop
So
back
your
words
up,
and
keep
on
choking
out
on
that
cock
You
like
it
or
not,
its
everlasting
- ain't
'Bouta
stop
(Hook:
Lil
Wyte
- repeat
8X)
We
'Bouta
Crash
Da
Club
- throw
some
chairs
(*DJ
Scratching*)
Break
- Break...
Break
- Break...
Break
Something
(Juvenile)
Aiyo
smoke
something,
choke
something,
get
real
nice
We
ain't
gon,
fall
on
our
face
- but
we
gon'
be
right
Look,
police
ain't
around
when
I
do
my
dirt
Becuz
I
map
it
all
loud
and
then
I
put
in
work
You
with
them
freaks
- I
be
in
the
streets
Y'all
be
wearing
them
Bee's
- I
be
wearing
Ree's
Running
wit'
my
g's
from
the
U-T-P
This
is
where
I'm
gonna
be
until
I
D-I-E
Wodie,
it's
goin'
down
from
the
Easy
Bay
ta
the
West
Bay
Where
niggaz
drank
V.S.O.P.
until
they
breath
stank
Bitch
gatta
say
something,
err'
time
They
never
handle
they
buisness,
but
staying
in
line
Seeking
you
will
find,
the
loaded
up
.9
Wanted
at
'cha
cuz
it
of
fa'
stealin'
my
mind
Juvenile
and
Three-6
thats
a-one-of-a-kind
Tooken
up
yo
golds
- nigga
get
ready
ta
blind
(Hook)
(Lil'
Wyte)
I'm
'Bouta
crash
da
club,
break
the
law
Throw
some
chairs,
crack
your
jaw
If
it's
killing
season
- ain't
no
reason
- ain't
no
need
ta
stale
I'm
the
one
put
here
ta
absorb
all
this
energy
and
pain
Non-stop-pop-from-the-top-of-the-clip-in-ya-glock,
I
still
don't
feel
you
mane
Cause
of
that,
ground
the
coke
and
now
I'm
puffin'
a
pound
of
dro
When
I'm
on
that
level
and
wit'
my
killaz
you
will
be
found
on
the
flo'
I
must
confes,
I
ain't
'bout
shit,
but
if
you
think
ta
cross
me
bitch
You'll
end
up
stanky
- walk
the
planky
- and
empty
out
your
pockets
bitch
Break
da
law,
break
your
leg,
crash
da
club
and
crack
your
neck
Wit'
these
issues
that
I'm
facing
- daily
I
should
tote
a
tec
Get
respect,
that's
no
option,
all
the
haters
filled
with
toxin'
Walk
right
through
the
center
of
the
crowd
and
pistols
get
ta
flossin'
Causing
problem
- dodging
bullets
- soon
as
I
corrupt
the
scene
Leaving
damage
- making
havoc
reaction
fuckin'
with
me
Chair
to
your
bizack
go
through
my
head
when
you
ignite
the
flame
Lead
to
your
bizack
of
your
hizead
before
it
hit
your
brain
(Hook)
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