Beat Club Lyrics
| Song | Beat Club |
| Artist | Timbaland & Magoo |
| Artist | Sin |
| Album | Indecent proposal |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Barcliff, Charlott, Mitchell ... | |
| BEAT CLUB! | |
| Untitled, uhh uhh, uhh - YES | |
| Uhh uhh, uhh, YES, uhh uhh | |
| Uhh uhh Timbaland, uhh, uhh uhh | |
| Uhh, uhh uhh - YES, uhh | |
| One, two, three, here we go! | |
| 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 ******z, don't make me have to call my killers | |
| Staff on ******z, get bloodbaths for all you ******z | |
| Yo, I ain't tryna talk *******t straight up I walk this *******t | |
| I'm used to bossin *******t and offin clips | |
| See hood is around my way - they talk often quick | |
| To us you spit, and leave that ****** coffin *******t | |
| 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 glocks now ******* get ridiculous jocks | |
| Now thug filthy ******z walkin through your club with blunts | |
| Grill with fronts, keep Henny on the spill for months | |
| I get trucks from the ******* and the ******z I crush | |
| And figure the last ******z that ****** with us | |
| Yo, Mag never roll with a gun, Mag roll with a two-case | |
| Get up in some beef ******z end up with a screw face | |
| Besides that I got a gang of P-town ******z with court cases | |
| And they all gettin life | |
| We can be enemies after ****** your wife, or runnin train on 'em | |
| Piss on a slut, let it rain on 'em | |
| But I'd rather put my brain on 'em | |
| Look at the *******, she got a frame on 'em | |
| Mag hit it then came on 'em | |
| "Alias," if you with me you ride | |
| Get in the back of the Lex', and be out of your tux | |
| Label me "alias" from my respects to crack this case | |
| I'm past bein berserk, ****** look at my face | |
| I got an ill way of showin my pain | |
| ****** talkin how I'm hurt, Mag take out his brain | |
| I'm goin insane and y'all ******z, hatin my thang | |
| Mag the illest ****** spittin, ****** the simple and plain | |
| Sin the reason why rap ain't gon' be the same | |
| First ******z speak my name, off with his brain | |
| Put the heat to his back, clap 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 *******; you *******-ass ****** | |
| Up North, drawers off, snitch ass ****** | |
| Now I'm hangin with superstars, and ****** them in the ****tail room | |
| After the nuttin, sweep 'em out with the broom | |
| Mag ghetto as ever but mo' cheddar | |
| Used to smoke dub sacks now just pound (?) | |
| But I got a sweet tooth for crime but never kill | |
| I run with steel, stay in the house, put my ****** up in Jill | |
| Poppin usin the pill, never did it before | |
| I wanna see how it feel, when you ****** wit my skill | |
| I make a mil' (?), ******* much fine in weather | |
| Fam's wipin they tongues a little | |
| Mag run for the street, or for the block | |
| Brand new cribs still dissin the pot | |
| Some bums take change see | |
| Neighbors lookin at Mag strangely | |
| Find theyself, hangin from a tree | |
| But I'm a real life gleeful | |
| "Alias" is next, but that ****** ain't diesel (?) | |
| 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 tech or a four-five calico with a nose wide | |
| and women don't know when to slow slide | |
| My A-K in the cut, with my 'dro hidin | |
| I keep them ******s holdin my fort, and keep a low **** | |
| I heard the feds hate me cause I'm so live | |
| From five o'clock to four-oh-five sellin quarters and dimes | |
| Even Magoo got a watch I ain't dumb | |
| 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 stright | |
| 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 brake | |
| Leave you under the jeep and test your faith | |
| Put it in reverse and, crush your face | |
| Go to court, tell the judge ****** 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 in raps | |
| Anticipate nickel plates, man, right where you sat | |
| Like a panel ****** under your *******rt, 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 | |
| ******z think they so cold like they jewelry okay | |
| I'm hittin hoes, respondin like you charmin the dame | |
| Crackin up like, "Damn, which one of y'all paid?" | |
| A pretty boy got ******s 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 |
| zuo ci : Barcliff, Charlott, Mitchell ... | |
| BEAT CLUB! | |
| Untitled, uhh uhh, uhh YES | |
| Uhh uhh, uhh, YES, uhh uhh | |
| Uhh uhh Timbaland, uhh, uhh uhh | |
| Uhh, uhh uhh YES, uhh | |
| One, two, three, here we go! | |
| 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 z, don' t make me have to call my killers | |
| Staff on z, get bloodbaths for all you z | |
| Yo, I ain' t tryna talk t straight up I walk this t | |
| I' m used to bossin t and offin clips | |
| See hood is around my way they talk often quick | |
| To us you spit, and leave that coffin t | |
| 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 glocks now get ridiculous jocks | |
| Now thug filthy z walkin through your club with blunts | |
| Grill with fronts, keep Henny on the spill for months | |
| I get trucks from the and the z I crush | |
| And figure the last z that with us | |
| Yo, Mag never roll with a gun, Mag roll with a twocase | |
| Get up in some beef z end up with a screw face | |
| Besides that I got a gang of Ptown z with court cases | |
| And they all gettin life | |
| We can be enemies after your wife, or runnin train on ' em | |
| Piss on a slut, let it rain on ' em | |
| But I' d rather put my brain on ' em | |
| Look at the , she got a frame on ' em | |
| Mag hit it then came on ' em | |
| " Alias," if you with me you ride | |
| Get in the back of the Lex', and be out of your tux | |
| Label me " alias" from my respects to crack this case | |
| I' m past bein berserk, look at my face | |
| I got an ill way of showin my pain | |
| talkin how I' m hurt, Mag take out his brain | |
| I' m goin insane and y' all z, hatin my thang | |
| Mag the illest spittin, the simple and plain | |
| Sin the reason why rap ain' t gon' be the same | |
| First z speak my name, off with his brain | |
| Put the heat to his back, clap 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 you ass | |
| Up North, drawers off, snitch ass | |
| Now I' m hangin with superstars, and them in the tail room | |
| After the nuttin, sweep ' em out with the broom | |
| Mag ghetto as ever but mo' cheddar | |
| Used to smoke dub sacks now just pound ? | |
| But I got a sweet tooth for crime but never kill | |
| I run with steel, stay in the house, put my up in Jill | |
| Poppin usin the pill, never did it before | |
| I wanna see how it feel, when you wit my skill | |
| I make a mil' ?, much fine in weather | |
| Fam' s wipin they tongues a little | |
| Mag run for the street, or for the block | |
| Brand new cribs still dissin the pot | |
| Some bums take change see | |
| Neighbors lookin at Mag strangely | |
| Find theyself, hangin from a tree | |
| But I' m a real life gleeful | |
| " Alias" is next, but that ain' t diesel ? | |
| 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 tech or a fourfive calico with a nose wide | |
| and women don' t know when to slow slide | |
| My AK in the cut, with my ' dro hidin | |
| I keep them s holdin my fort, and keep a low | |
| I heard the feds hate me cause I' m so live | |
| From five o' clock to fourohfive sellin quarters and dimes | |
| Even Magoo got a watch I ain' t dumb | |
| Ain' t no familiars in this place where I' m slingin it from | |
| I got wholesale weight, that lowsale weight | |
| Or any kind of weight that make my dough flow stright | |
| 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 brake | |
| Leave you under the jeep and test your faith | |
| Put it in reverse and, crush your face | |
| Go to court, tell the judge 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 in raps | |
| Anticipate nickel plates, man, right where you sat | |
| Like a panel under your rt, 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 | |
| z think they so cold like they jewelry okay | |
| I' m hittin hoes, respondin like you charmin the dame | |
| Crackin up like, " Damn, which one of y' all paid?" | |
| A pretty boy got s 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 | |
| Durags ain' t safe, bullets skip through waves | |
| I' ll hop drivethru, pop somethin in Dave | |
| I ain' t from around yo' way, I' m from VA |
| zuò cí : Barcliff, Charlott, Mitchell ... | |
| BEAT CLUB! | |
| Untitled, uhh uhh, uhh YES | |
| Uhh uhh, uhh, YES, uhh uhh | |
| Uhh uhh Timbaland, uhh, uhh uhh | |
| Uhh, uhh uhh YES, uhh | |
| One, two, three, here we go! | |
| 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 z, don' t make me have to call my killers | |
| Staff on z, get bloodbaths for all you z | |
| Yo, I ain' t tryna talk t straight up I walk this t | |
| I' m used to bossin t and offin clips | |
| See hood is around my way they talk often quick | |
| To us you spit, and leave that coffin t | |
| 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 glocks now get ridiculous jocks | |
| Now thug filthy z walkin through your club with blunts | |
| Grill with fronts, keep Henny on the spill for months | |
| I get trucks from the and the z I crush | |
| And figure the last z that with us | |
| Yo, Mag never roll with a gun, Mag roll with a twocase | |
| Get up in some beef z end up with a screw face | |
| Besides that I got a gang of Ptown z with court cases | |
| And they all gettin life | |
| We can be enemies after your wife, or runnin train on ' em | |
| Piss on a slut, let it rain on ' em | |
| But I' d rather put my brain on ' em | |
| Look at the , she got a frame on ' em | |
| Mag hit it then came on ' em | |
| " Alias," if you with me you ride | |
| Get in the back of the Lex', and be out of your tux | |
| Label me " alias" from my respects to crack this case | |
| I' m past bein berserk, look at my face | |
| I got an ill way of showin my pain | |
| talkin how I' m hurt, Mag take out his brain | |
| I' m goin insane and y' all z, hatin my thang | |
| Mag the illest spittin, the simple and plain | |
| Sin the reason why rap ain' t gon' be the same | |
| First z speak my name, off with his brain | |
| Put the heat to his back, clap 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 you ass | |
| Up North, drawers off, snitch ass | |
| Now I' m hangin with superstars, and them in the tail room | |
| After the nuttin, sweep ' em out with the broom | |
| Mag ghetto as ever but mo' cheddar | |
| Used to smoke dub sacks now just pound ? | |
| But I got a sweet tooth for crime but never kill | |
| I run with steel, stay in the house, put my up in Jill | |
| Poppin usin the pill, never did it before | |
| I wanna see how it feel, when you wit my skill | |
| I make a mil' ?, much fine in weather | |
| Fam' s wipin they tongues a little | |
| Mag run for the street, or for the block | |
| Brand new cribs still dissin the pot | |
| Some bums take change see | |
| Neighbors lookin at Mag strangely | |
| Find theyself, hangin from a tree | |
| But I' m a real life gleeful | |
| " Alias" is next, but that ain' t diesel ? | |
| 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 tech or a fourfive calico with a nose wide | |
| and women don' t know when to slow slide | |
| My AK in the cut, with my ' dro hidin | |
| I keep them s holdin my fort, and keep a low | |
| I heard the feds hate me cause I' m so live | |
| From five o' clock to fourohfive sellin quarters and dimes | |
| Even Magoo got a watch I ain' t dumb | |
| Ain' t no familiars in this place where I' m slingin it from | |
| I got wholesale weight, that lowsale weight | |
| Or any kind of weight that make my dough flow stright | |
| 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 brake | |
| Leave you under the jeep and test your faith | |
| Put it in reverse and, crush your face | |
| Go to court, tell the judge 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 in raps | |
| Anticipate nickel plates, man, right where you sat | |
| Like a panel under your rt, 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 | |
| z think they so cold like they jewelry okay | |
| I' m hittin hoes, respondin like you charmin the dame | |
| Crackin up like, " Damn, which one of y' all paid?" | |
| A pretty boy got s 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 | |
| Durags ain' t safe, bullets skip through waves | |
| I' ll hop drivethru, pop somethin in Dave | |
| I ain' t from around yo' way, I' m from VA |
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