Club Gettin' Crowded

Chingy

    Continues after the ad

    Uh huh (We came to bust heads) x3

    This is the official (the official)...
    get yo ass knocked out music (get yo ass knocked the fuck out!)
    for bein a non-hood affliate nigga

    GIB...ACP

    Get it boys, hypnotize minds (what?)
    ...hypnotize minds, you know how its goin' down
    We comin' dirrty...we comin' dirrty

    [Chorus}
    The club gettin' crowded, throw up yo set and shout it
    You talk but you ain't 'bout it
    Nigga huh, nigga huh
    We off that juice and Hen', I snuck that burna in
    We're set trippin'
    nigga what, nigga what

    Continues after the ad

    [Verse 1: Chingy]
    I crept in the spot with a tom strap
    Haters that trip get blown back
    We off that hash and cogniac
    Head bussin' we on dat
    Wanna freak out better pull dat ho
    Take her to da bar and full dat ho
    Get her in da bathroom, get some head
    I'm a playa--yain't know?
    Cowards know me so they starin'
    Trippin' off the jewels I'm wearin'
    My nigga I pack stern
    Police in herr, we ain't carrin'
    Pussie don't pump in blood
    Real niggas always show me love
    Fake niggas keep yo caps and ??
    Real niggas got dem gats and slugs
    If you want, you can get it
    Put a couple, in yo fitted
    We ain't never scared trick
    Tell 'em GIB did it
    Dragged dat punk up out this place for putting his fingas in my face
    I almost caught a fuckin' case
    (You cool dirrty?) Yeah I'm straight

    [Chorus]

    [Verse 2: Three 6 Mafia]
    Yeah...what!Now I ain't even worried bout you...haters
    Three 6 Mafia fakers
    You talk like commen...taters
    You fiction like Terminator
    My nation eliminata
    Under...estimater
    Stomp 'em to the pavement with some Air Force One gators (Bitch!)
    I pay 'em no mind, I show 'em my nine
    I slap 'em...a couple a times and any a mine
    I promise...he be aight he jus' needed some wakin' up
    And I guess he thought, ACP and GIB was bluffin' (Yeah!)

    You got some pimps off in dis buildin'
    Smokin' with yo children
    In da back of da club, with my thugs syrrup sippin'
    What's up with yo bitch, suckin' dick and she givin'
    Credit cards to G's with keys for dis pimpin'
    They see the D-Boys shinin' grindin' then they get this feelin'
    Don't hate on me or play with me
    These Mafia boys be killin'
    They call my Juicy J, I got dat SK that be drillin'
    You fuck with me you might get hit
    I'm known for dome peelin'

    [Chorus]

    [Verse 3: Chingy]
    (Ride out niggas!)
    Dammit Memphis on da scene
    They sippin' syrrup and ridin' clean
    On da block we buy (some beans)??
    These stacks is bulgin' out my jeans
    You know these hoes be on my nuts
    Take in the rims on da truck
    Schemin' tryin' to take my bucks
    Yeah bitch I know whats up
    Ching-a-ling and Three 6
    You got bricks? We flip
    Don't come sideways tryin' to playa hustle, we hip
    Two clips one glock, leave ya flat from one shot
    Cats playin' the role of Makeveli, its only one Pac
    Come equipped or don't come
    Show up homie, don't run
    Best believe we won't run
    After da party get ya guns
    Ain't no parking lot pimpin'
    Only parking lot poppin'
    Man what will stand down ho????
    (brllrrllaaa!)
    You herrd dem Ks choppin'

    [Chorus]

    Song details

    Composition: H. Bailey and J. Houston; P. Beauregard

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