Club House - Toosii

Club House - Toosii

Год
2020
Язык
`English`
Длительность
193720

Below is the lyrics of the song Club House , artist - Toosii with translation

Lyrics " Club House "

Original text with translation

Club House

Toosii

One, two, three straps inside my club house

Four, Five, Six fuck around we at a club out

Only niggas wear white tees inside my club house

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

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

Catch a body, that’s my body, ain’t gotta split that

Bust his brains, we’ll give a nigga a shit bag

My ex be tryna' talk, I tell her oh we playin' tic-tac-toe

She got a thing for them shooters know we on go

Like seven, eight, nine of these niggas are off the scope

That be ten, eleven, twelve

Give me thirteen reasons he shouldn’t go to hell

Pardon my step, but I give on it

New ice, I can change the climate

I know storms in Chicago

New car hit the road no mileage

Every time we pop out in they section, like you cocky

Bitch I heard what you said, ain’t got to ask me if I copy

They know all this shit get rocky, like balboa

Bitch I never danced, I do my jig out to the floor

Don’t ask me if I’m fuckin' with that hoe you know she tore up

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

I tell her to grow up

You go up, we go up

My whole life projectile, like it’s throw up

Don’t tell me what you gon' do nigga you must not know us

You can play the base lil nigga that wasn’t for us

One, two, three straps inside my club house

Four, Five, Six fuck around we at a club out

Only niggas wear white tees inside my club house

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

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

Catch a body, that’s my body, ain’t gotta split that

Bust his brains, we’ll give a nigga a shit bag

My ex be tryna' talk, I tell her oh we playin' tic-tac-toe

She got a thing for them shooters know we on go

Like seven, eight, nine of these niggas are off the scope

That be ten, eleven, twelve

Give me thirteen reasons he shouldn’t go to hell

You can call yo top shoota'

We’ll spin a block shoot em'

Ian never shot a cop, but bitch I be with cop shootas

My lil homie off the grid, he popped the lid and talked to em'

His mama been beggin' me to call his phone and talk to him

Call like yesterday, keep a cold like yesterday

I wasn’t even gon' fuck on that hoe, but I told her yes today

Finger fuck the trigger, bitch I had a lil sex today

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

Cold storm, move Frita

ARP, new heater

My brother, my brother, poured a walk inside a two meter

Imma come around, bitch I gotta cop some new beaters

They say I’m hot cause a nigga ride round with two heaters

One, two, three straps inside my club house

Four, Five, Six fuck around we at a club out

Only niggas wear white tees inside my club house

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

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

Catch a body, that’s my body, ain’t gotta split that

Bust his brains, we’ll give a nigga a shit bag

My ex be tryna' talk, I tell her oh we playin' tic-tac-toe

She got a thing for them shooters know we on go

Like seven, eight, nine of these niggas are off the scope

That be ten, eleven, twelve

Give me thirteen reasons he shouldn’t go to hell

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