Songtext:
feat. Juvenile Rote Folie [Lil' Wyte] ...ah yeah Hypnotize Minds, wassup Lil' Wyte featuring Juvenile Crash the mothafuckin' club, the REMIX!! - and its goin' down for you hoes Like THIS!!...Multiple Memphis scares, outlining your insides wit' bars Grippin' your nina hard, bitch my blood inha-led by heart When the fuck you gon' start, recognize that life is a game And it's always the same, them dice you rolling ain't 'Bouta change I'm snatchin' your chain, reimbursing you with some pain It's all over mane, in which direction he makes a zane I ain't 'bout that fame, I'm 'bout the cheese, and this 'Bouta bring So fuck your hoe name, with you my faith was lacking some things I'm starting all over with composition sticky like doja And I thought I told ya when I come through I'm crushing like boulders I'm hard ta top, shoot at plenty I bet it's gon' knock it - whatever I drop But even your beef can't touch what I got You wildin' or not, if is so bring all your beef ta the spot Hope you got your glock, I'm strapped with no hesi-tant ta pop So back your words up, and keep on choking out on that cock You like it or not, its everlasting - ain't 'Bouta stop
[Hook: Lil Wyte - repeat 8X] We 'Bouta Crash Da Club - throw some chairs (*DJ Scratching*) Break - Break...Break - Break...Break Something
[Juvenile] Aiyo smoke something, choke something, get real nice We ain't gon, fall on our face - but we gon' be right Look, police ain't around when I do my dirt Becuz I map it all loud and then I put in work You with them freaks - I be in the streets Y'all be wearing them Bee's - I be wearing Ree's Running wit' my g's from the U-T-P This is where I'm gonna be until I D-I-E Wodie, it's goin' down from the Easy Bay ta the West Bay Where niggaz drank V.S.O.P. until they breath stank Bitch gatta say something, err' time They never handle they buisness, but staying in line Seeking you will find, the loaded up .9 Wanted at 'cha cuz it of fa' stealin' my mind Juvenile and Three-6 thats a-one-of-a-kind Tooken up yo golds - nigga get ready ta blind
[Hook]
[Lil' Wyte] I'm 'Bouta crash da club, break the law Throw some chairs, crack your jaw If it's killing season - ain't no reason - ain't no need ta stale I'm the one put here ta absorb all this energy and pain Non-stop-pop-from-the-top-of-the-clip-in-ya-glock, I still don't feel you mane Cause of that, ground the coke and now I'm puffin' a pound of dro When I'm on that level and wit' my killaz you will be found on the flo' I must confes, I ain't 'bout shit, but if you think ta cross me bitch You'll end up stanky - walk the planky - and empty out your pockets bitch Break da law, break your leg, crash da club and crack your neck Wit' these issues that I'm facing - daily I should tote a tec Get respect, that's no option, all the haters filled with toxin' Walk right through the center of the crowd and pistols get ta flossin' Causing problem - dodging bullets - soon as I corrupt the scene Leaving damage - making havoc reaction fuckin' with me Chair to your bizack go through my head when you ignite the flame Lead to your bizack of your hizead before it hit your brain
