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(feat. D'Capo, Hawk, Mr. 3-2, Quest) [talking:] Thugs, bad ass broads What ya talking bout, what ya talking bout What ya talking bout, what ya talking bout Alcoholics, drug addicts What ya talking bout, what ya talking bout What ya talking bout, what ya talking bout [Hook: x2] Nigga fool in the club, and they talking loud Diarreah at the mouth, I'll knock it out What ya talking bout, what ya talking bout What ya talking bout, what ya talking bout [H.A.W.K.:] In the club tripping, gon have niggaz blood dripping Slugs hitting, gon have niggaz flesh ripping I ain't tripping, I'm issuing out ass whippings And outside I'm on 4's, glass tipping Just as sho', as I pop my collar There'll be a hole in your head, big as a half a dollar I'm hard to swallow, looking bout the size of Kamala And I'm ready to attack, like two rottweilers I'm bout that dollar, all the hoes waiting to holla Letras de cancionesAnd when I leave out the club, all the hoes gon follow Respect the name, also respect my game The hands will swang, if you disrespect me mayn The flow is insane, niggaz can't shield my reign It's your boy Big H.A.W.K., coming through your bang Stay in your lane, or else I'll inflict pain I'll rearrange your frame, when you hear bang-bang [Hook x2] [Mr. 3-2:] If ya step on my shoes, I'll slap ya face Tear up this place, prolly catch a case Off alcohol, my blood be pumping You bitch ass niggaz, ain't talking bout nothing Say some'ing wrong, we gon have to squabble Fuck your face off, with a champagne bottle My motto, get this over with fast Before words pass, I'm all on your ass Security guards, and rent-a-cops better chill In the parking lot, a nigga might get killed For real, I ain't playing with bitch boys My niggaz, always pack plastic toys DJ, better turn the music off I was trying to mack a bitch, y'all done pissed me off Big Boss, Mr. 3-2 get crunk Me and H.A.W.K., going hard on these chumps [Hook x2] [D-Capo:] I pull up to the club, head breeze and two prone From drink I'm gone, broads on ding-dong I play like King Kong, I'll get em up off me Game so smooth, they thinking that I'm salty But I'm frosty playa, froze up like Alaska Boys get to tripping, it's gon be a disaster Faster, than diarreah mouths can blink I slide em quick like lightening, then buzz em with a drink [Quest:] When I'm in the club, and these niggaz starting to talk too much Buster niggaz better chill, 'fore I spark you up The medics and them folks, gon have to chalk you up That's the end nigga you caught with some'ing, nigga you off and drunk In my ear, and you need to step back Cause the tools that I pack, are known to stretch fat Hot slugs, run through that ass like X-Lax Then I'm make they neck crack, you best respect that [Hook x2] From Letras Mania