Club House

One, two, three straps inside my clubhouse

Four, five, six, fuck 'round we air the club out

Only **** with white tees inside my clubhouse

You can't be around if you ain't never shut the club down

Bitch, I be with all them **** who really with that

Catch a body, that's my body, ain't got to split that

Bust his brains, we'll give a **** a shit bag

My X be tryna talk, I tell her O we playing tic tac, toe

She got a thing for them shooters, know we on go

Wack seven, eight, nine of they ****, to up the sco'

Maybe ten, eleven, twelve

Give me thirteen reasons he shouldn't go to hell

Pardon my step but I get violent

New ice, I can change the climate

I know stones in Chicago

New car hit the road, no mileage

Everytime we pop out in they section like you cocky

Bitch, I heard what you said

Ain't gotta ask me if I copy

They know, all this shit get rocky like Balboa

Bitch I never dance, I do my jigg, I tear the flo' up

Don't ask me if I'm fuckin' with that hoe

You know she to' up

They say my city been waiting for a **** like me to blow up

I tell her to grow up

We go out, we go up

My whole life projectile like it's throw up

Don't tell me what you gon' do ****

You must not know us

You can play the bench lil ****

That wasn't for us

One, two, three straps inside my clubhouse

Four, five, six, fuck 'round we air the club out

Only **** with white tees inside my clubhouse

You can't be around if you ain't never shut the club down

Bitch, I be with all them **** who really with that

Catch a body, that's my body, ain't got to split that

Bust his brains, we'll give a **** a shit bag

My X be tryna talk, I tell her O we playing tic tac, toe

She got a thing for them shooters, know we on go

Wack seven, eight, nine of they ****, to up the sco'

Maybe ten, eleven, twelve

Give me thirteen reasons he shouldn't go to hell

You could call yo top shoota

We'll spin the block, shoot 'em

I ain't never shot a cop

But bitch I be with cop shootas

My lil homie off the grid

He popped the lid and top to 'em

His mama been begging me to call his phone and talk to 'em

Cold like yesterday

Keep a pole like yesterday

I won't even gon' fuck on that hoe

But I told her yes today

Finger fuck the trigger bitch

I had a lil sex today

I ain't tryna be boo'd up, bitch I ain't Ella Mai

Cold Stone, new freezer

ARP, new heater

My brother, my brother pouring wock inside a two liter

Summer come around, bitch, I gotta cop some new beaters

They say I'm hot, 'cause a **** ride around with two heaters

One, two, three straps inside my clubhouse

Four, five, six, fuck 'round we air the club out

Only **** with white tees inside my clubhouse

You can't be around if you ain't never shut the club down

Bitch, I be with all them **** who really with that

Catch a body, that's my body, ain't got to split that

Bust his brains, we'll give a **** a shit bag

My X be tryna talk, I tell her O we playing tic tac, toe

She got a thing for them shooters, know we on go

Wack seven, eight, nine of they ****, to up the sco'

Maybe ten, eleven, twelve

Give me thirteen reasons he shouldn't go to hell