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Crash da Club [Remix] Lyrics

Artist: Lil' Wyte
Album: Doubt Me Now

[DJ Paul]
ahh yeah...Hypnotize Minds, wassup? Lil' Wyte featurin' Juvenile
Crash tha mothafuckin' club, tha remix, and its goin' down fo' you hoez
Like THISSSSSS
[Lil' Wyte]
Multiple mental scarz, outlinin' yo insidez wit' barz
Grippin' yo nina hard, bitch by blood n hater by heart
When tha fuck you gon' start, recognizin that life is a game
And it'z alwayz the same, them dice you rollin ain't bout ta change
I'm snatchin' yo chain, reimbursin you wit some pain
It's all on tha main, in which direction he makes a zane
I ain't bout that fame, I'm bout tha cheese, and it's bout tha brainz
So fuck yo whole name, wit you my faith was lackin some thangz
I'm startin all ova wit composition stickin like doja
And I thought I told ya when I come through I'm crushin like bouldaz
I'm hard ta top, shoot at plenty I bet it's gon' knock, whateva i drop
But even yo BEAST can't touch what I got
You whilin or not, if so bring all yo beef to tha spot
Hope you got yo glock, I'm strapped with no hesi-tant ta pop
So back yo words up, and keep on chokin out on that cock
You like it or not, its everlastin and aint Bout to stop

[Hook: Lil Wyte - repeat 8X]
We Bout to 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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