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Текст песни 2nd II None f AMG, DJ Quik - Up in Da Club

2nd II None f AMG, DJ Quik - Up in Da Club слова песни

2-2-0(Chorus)Up in da club(Where You chillin for the summer, homey?)Up in da club(Jump in the stretch, help me run it)Up in da club(Fly ladies from all the walls)Up in da club(With my beats I`m fadin all a y`all)Up in da club(Can a playa spend his double life)Up in da club(Before she shank me with a butter knife)Up in da club(Upper lover or lower life)Up in da club(Still the same when we go inside)(Verse 1)If You lookin for a man with a bulge in his pantsWho really ain`t trippin about a one night standI`ll be that dude that`ll leave you wishinWho`s floatin in ya love pot, strictly fishinSee, baby, lookin cute with a bathing sutePants like all in the ass without the zoomI`m gangsta, baby don`t you know we keep the heaters hotSummertime, when we grind bumpin on yo blockIn the club smokin trees, drinkin hennesseyCrack a scarp to the fullest is my strap, GAin`t no need for gangsta deedsNow put ya drinks in the air and throw a toast to meCause I`m off the red eye flightFlyin for the ladies in the tightsTell me what you likeFast or slow? In my car or on dubs?A straight fuckin while we buckin, baby(CHORUS)(Verse 2)Now can`t hang, got a space at the back of the club, low keyI did my thang in the car that`s why I skip past the broadGot my eyes on tight, I`m headed straight for a cornerGot my eyes on this freak with 10 suckas all upon herThe type that claim they fly and freshYappin like hoes bout who got the best Rolex sweatDrinchin all on my head and my shirtIt`s time to shake my buzz, grab a skirt and go to workCrack the dance floor wit me but don`t hurt ya selfNice at the summertime (Oh Yeah)The tricks come to spend a lotOn these tricks off the knotThat`s why they get with pockets ripped to they socksDamn! These pretty hoes comin in flocksTalkin about how many freaks I gotThat`s why, sometimes I go for a minute & shake the spotIt`s either too damn crowded or hell-a-hot(CHORUS)(Verse 3)Yeah, ho is Dolce & Gabanna, ya mamaIn the six rebelBig face, she wanna know how my hit tastesYeah, I remember these freaks by faceOr they nipples or they cheeks to the belly chains on they waistMost of y`all easin` knuckles, Cartier belt bucklesLookin for a nigga to hustleShit, I`m the next multi-million dollar black manFor all y`all ain`t grizzlin` niggasTake shake the sound standQuik gotta beat that`ll cost a hundred grandParty from LA, Terrio to JapanIf you in the sand, throw up, up ya handsIf you in the hood with the leather`n`woodLet these hoes know 2-2-0 got the do-doFind me on the net, dot com the textVISA, Mastercard, American Express(Chorus Till Fade)

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