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 pants Who really ain't trippin about a one night stand I'll be that dude that'll leave you wishin Who's floatin in ya love pot, strictly fishin See, baby, lookin cute with a bathing sute Pants like all in the ass without the zoom I'm gangsta, baby don't you know we keep the heaters hot Summertime, when we grind bumpin on yo block In the club smokin trees, drinkin hennessey Crack a scarp to the fullest is my strap, G Ain't no need for gangsta deeds Now put ya drinks in the air and throw a toast to me Cause I'm off the red eye flight Flyin for the ladies in the tights Tell me what you like Fast 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 key I did my thang in the car that's why I skip past the broad Got my eyes on tight, I'm headed straight for a corner Got my eyes on this freak with 10 suckas all upon her The type that claim they fly and fresh Yappin like hoes bout who got the best Rolex sweat Drinchin all on my head and my shirt It's time to shake my buzz, grab a skirt and go to work Crack the dance floor wit me but don't hurt ya self Nice at the summertime (Oh Yeah) The tricks come to spend a lot On these tricks off the knot That's why they get with pockets ripped to they socks Damn! These pretty hoes comin in flocks Talkin about how many freaks I got That's why, sometimes I go for a minute & shake the spot It's either too damn crowded or hell-a-hot [CHORUS] [Verse 3] Yeah, ho is Dolce & Gabanna, ya mama In the six rebel Big face, she wanna know how my hit tastes Yeah, I remember these freaks by face Or they nipples or they cheeks to the belly chains on they waist Most of y'all easin' knuckles, Cartier belt buckles Lookin for a nigga to hustle Shit, I'm the next multi-million dollar black man For all y'all ain't grizzlin' niggas Take shake the sound stand Quik gotta beat that'll cost a hundred grand Party from LA, Terrio to Japan If you in the sand, throw up, up ya hands If you in the hood with the leather'n'wood Let these hoes know 2-2-0 got the do-do Find me on the net, dot com the text VISA, Mastercard, American Express [Chorus Till Fade]
Andrs Cepeda lyrics