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c.m.l., wop dell & toohda band$ - club house killers كلمات الأغنية

[intro]
(funk or die)
(mmm, teoilikethis)
(heavyweight, n_gga)

[verse 1]
i’m beefin’ with some blockers, man, they gettin’ at me sideways
i’m lurkin’, tryna flip a sprinter van up on the highway
i’m sub_zero with this chopper, freeze a n_gga like an ice tray
can’t n0body call my phone and tell me sh_t, i do it my way
check my resume, i’m thugged out
stars in the drug house
every time they say it’s beef with me, they run the clubhouse
don’t let me say it’s beef, they hit your street and blow your mug out
the way i work this drac’, they’d probably hide me in a nuthouse
they speak on me so freely, they don’t think i know they police
they disrespect, but when i say sh_t back, them folks get on me
i don’t do no back and forth, f_ck you and your og
i’m the type to play it cool and smoke you on the lowkey
these soft_ass n_ggas picking sides and they don’t even know me
i told the bros whoever crack your skull can have my rollie
i’m tired of n_ggas speakin’ on my business like they with that
ain’t n0body safe, this baby k ain’t got no kickback
they thought that boy was sick until the clique gave him a sh_t bag
we stepped on your stepper, on 3_0, you know who did that
these scary n_ggas meet some scary n_ggas, then they clique up
if he running, shoot him in his stomach, n_ggas ain’t gon’ get up
when it’s going down, nail him to the ground, he can’t sit up
old police_ass n_gga talkin’ loud, shut that sh_t up
these n_ggas talk just like a b_tch, how you sit down with a snitch?
n_ggas actin’ like they active, gettin’ extorted by the crips
on the clique
[verse 2]
yeah, come and prove it
you would think i work at fedex, all these packs that i be moving
i said, “pull up with a crate,” ’cause percs and drank, i be abusing
and before i hit the booth, i pour a four
b_tch go through my phone like, “who is this?” b_tch, i don’t know
grew up watching auntie hit the dope, she d_mn near croaked
i really love your ho, don’t gotta ask, she give me throat
and if that lil’ b_tch broke, can’t give me cash, she gotta go
i’m done shootin’ threes, get to the paint like i’m vince carter
stank b_tch sellin’ p_ssy, that’s a fish market
n_gga need to work at walmart, he always miss targets
lookin’ stupid, rollin’ down the window like, “this b_tch farted”
peanut b_tter on the bread, i like the crunchy kind
in the booth, i pour a deuce, now it’s punch_in time
bro rock extended clips, but sh_t, it’s nuts on mine
lakers losing every d_mn game, i be like, “f_ck lebron”

[verse 3]
ayy, we get los, if n_ggas there, we droppin’ every shot
i’m ridin’ ’round with dracy on me, n_gga, f_ck the glock
we’ll drop you in front the feds, n_gga, f_ck the cops
before i wrote a rap, i was fiendin’, tryna spin a block
you ain’t got no bodies on that side, them ain’t your f_ckin’ opps
dog got his head tapped, he left without the pop
only time these n_ggas droppin’ somethin’ is when they sippin’ wock’
a hundred fifty shots inside this lo’, it’s just me and wop
he survived a headshot, i wish they punched his clock
dj took his whole kit off, where was your f_ckin’ glock?
ridin’ with a b_tch that give me drops, she just blew my socks
she a real tweaker, she be cheesin’ when she see the opps
what’s_his_name just gave them n_ggas drop, i told that n_gga yop
f_ck them fully switches, when we slide, we hit they blocks with chops
they put his picture on tv, he on the 6 o’clock
any n_gga f_ckin’ with hayes money, we gon’ get ’em dropped

- c m l wop dell toohda band

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