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Chingy
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Club Gettin' Crowded
Lyricist:Howard Earl Bailey, Paul D. Beauregard, J Houston
Uh, huh (We came to bust heads) Uh, huh (We came to bust heads) Uh, huh (We came to bust heads)
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' dirty, we comin' dirty
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?
I crept in the spot with a tom strap, haters that trip get blown back We off that hash and cognac, 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, y'ain't know?
Cowards know me so they starin', trippin' off the jewels I'm wearin' My nigga I pack stern, police in here, we ain't carin' Pussie don't pump in blood, real niggas always show me love Fake niggas keep yo caps and [unverified] 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 dirty) Yeah I'm straight
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? Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
Yeah, what? Now I ain't even worried 'bout you, haters Three six mafia fakers, you talk like commentators You fiction like Terminator, my nation eliminata underestimater 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'
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?
(Ride out niggas) Dammit Memphis on da scene They sippin' syrrup and ridin' clean On da block we buy [Unverified] 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 what's up
Ching a ling and three six, 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 Makaveli, it's 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' [Unverified] You herd dem Ks choppin'
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?
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