Beat Club (feat. Sin)

Yo, who wanna wreck you with the iller thug, super killer thug

You know that thug that's used to doin' it out the dub

I go Shaft on ****, you make me have to call my killers

Staff on ****, get bloodbaths for all you ****

Yo, I ain't tryna talk shit, straight up, I walk this shit

I'm used to bossin' shit and offin' clips

See hood is around my way, they talk often quick

Too raw is the spit and leave that **** coughin' shit

See, we gang, we never bought it in the streets I slang

Peeps I train to hustle, get it, take out names

Let me bang and spread it all around the project blocks

I'm sick with rocks now bitches get ridiculous jocks

Now thug filthy **** walkin' through your club with blunts

Grill with fronts, keep Henny on the spill for months

I get trucks from the bitches and the **** I crush

And figure the last **** that fuck with us

Yo, Mag never roll with a gun, Mag roll with a two-case

Get up in some beef, **** end up with a screw face

Besides that I got a gang of P-town **** with court cases

And they all gettin' life

We can be enemies after fuckin' your wife, or run train on her

Piss on a slut, let it rain on her

But I'd rather put my brain on her

Look at the bitch, she got a frame on her

Mag hit, then came on her

'Alias,' if you with me, you ride

Get in the back of the Lex', and be out of your tux

They gon' need aliens from outerspace to crack this case

I'm past bein' berserk, **** look at my face

I got a ill way of showin' my pain

Fuck talkin' how I'm hurt, Mag take out his brain

I'm goin insane and y'all **** hatin' my thang

Mag the illest **** spittin', fuck the simple and plain

Sin the reason why rap ain't gon' be the same

First **** speak my name, off with his brain

Put the heat to his back, clap till his lungs collapse

If I would sell, six plat', I'm done with rap

How many y'all gotta touch, then found out Sin's too much

Uncut, can't touch

You remind me of pussy, you bitch-ass ****

Up North, drawers off, snitch ass ****

Now I'm hangin' with superstars, and fuckin' them in the cocktail room

After the nuttin', sweep 'em out with the broom

Mag ghetto as ever but mo' cheddar

Used to smoke dub sacks, now just pounds or better

But I got a sweet tooth for crime, but never kill

I run with steel, stay in the house, put my dick up in Jill

Poppin' usin' the pill, never did it before

I wanna see how it feel, when you fuck wit' my skill

I make a mill' or better, pussy much fine in weather

Fan's wipin' they tongues a little

Mag run for the street, or for the block

Brand new crib, still dissin' the pot

Soft grubs can't change me

Neighbors lookin' at Mag strangely

Find theyself hangin' from a tree

But I'm a live life gleeful

'Alias' is next, but that **** ain't peaceful

Yo, I used to keep it on the low when I was younger

But now I'm big boss in the game, come let me show you somethin'

So whatchu need is a TEC or a four-five calico with a nose wide

And when he in the window, slow slide

My A-K in the cut, where my 'dro hide

I keep them hookers holdin' my fort, they keep a low vibe

I heard the feds said they hate me 'cause I'm so live

From five o'clock to four-oh-five sellin' quarters and dimes

Even Magoo got a watch how he come

Ain't no familiars in this place where I'm slingin' it from

I got wholesale weight, that low-sale weight

Or any kind of weight that make my dough flow straight

'Cause I'm oh so great; real thugs, no fake

That's why they down to play me on radio stations and rotations

Thugs hate everything I stand fo', throw hands fo'

Make plans fo', roll on yo' camp fo'

Laid back in the same colored Escalade

Run over rappers that test the brakes

Leave you under the Jeep and test your faith

Put it in reverse then crush your face

Go to court, tell the judge fuck the case

Go to jail, no bail, cut your face

Get it right ****, you dealin' with apes

I came for the safe, now show me the cake, uhh

Listen, as soon I'm on the show you struggle my raps

Anticipate nickel plates, man, right where you sat

Like a pair of nothing under your shirt, picture that

How your child's gonna burp when you losin' your lap?

Hey, I'm bringin' the shade, don't floss in the day

**** think they so cold, like they jewelry okay

I'm hittin' hoes, respondin' like you charmin' the day

Crackin' up like, 'Damn, which one of y'all paid?'

Pretty boy got hookers thinkin' that the blows don't trade

That's the day that the curls slide under the braid

I'll give you somethin' sharp to raise that line in your fade

Different ligaments torn for every round that's sprayed

Puttin' hoes into groups and spittin' them up like Jake

Du-rags ain't safe, bullets skip through waves

I'll hop drive-thru, pop somethin' in Dave

I ain't from around yo' way, **** I'm from V-A