Project Pat - Crash Da Clubs lyrics

rate me

(feat. Lil Wyte)

[Verse One: Lil Wyte]

Multiple mental scares, outlining your insides wit bars

Gripp'in your nina hard, bitch my blood inhated by heart

When I buck you gonna start recognize life is a game

And it's always the same them dice you rolling ain't bout to change

I'm snatch your chain, reimbursing you with some pain

It's all over mane in which direction he make inzane

I ain't bout that fame I'm bout the cheese, that this bout to bring

So fuck your hoe name, with you my faith was lacking some things

I'm starting allover with composition sticky like doja

And I thought I told ya when I come thru I'm crushing like boulders

I'm hard to top shoot at plenty I bet it gonna knock,

Whatever I drop, but even your bitch can touch whatever I got

You wildin or not is so bring your beef to the spot

Hope that you got your glock I'm strapped with no hesitance to pop

So back your words up and keep on choking out on that cock

You like it or not its everlasting, ain't bout to stop

[Chorus: repeat 7X]

We bout to crash da clubs, throw some chairs break some'in

[Verse Two: Lil Wyte]

Rotten core to the bone with no way home and destination bitch

I see you flying blind and you implying that I been trading bitch

And I helped you out and I put your name across the nation bitch

And I got the champ It's all the jealously up in you bitch

Now how do you think you going to get a piece of my wealth

I created and sculpted, molded and made myself

I'm furiously gifted, lyrically raised in hell

If you want it, come get it you better brace yourself

My provocative rocket wetting hoes on sight

Interactive disaster crucial a pond your flight

Better watch I will ride especially at night

I got a bullet in chamber coming at you that read Wyte

So before you come tricking you better think about life

You only got one you see and you better live it right

Ride or die is my terms and I aint getting fucked twice

Think you gone come out of here, come on bitch roll your dice

[Chorus: repeat 8X]

We bout to crash da clubs, throw some chairs break some'in

[Verse Three: Lil Wyte]

I'm bout to crash, the clubs break da law

Throw some chairs, crack your jaw

If it's killing season aint no reason aint no need to stop

I'm the one put here to absorb all this energy and pain

None stop pop from the top of the clip in glock I still don't feel you mane

Cause of that gram of coke and now I'm puffin a pound of dro

When I'm on that level and with my killas you will be found on the floor

I must confess I aint about shit

But if you think to cross me bitch

You'll end up stankey, walk the plankey, and empty out your pockets bitch

Break da law, break your leg, crash da club and crack your neck

With these issues that I'm facing daily, I should tote a tec

Get respect that's no option, all the hater filled with toxic 'in

Walk right thru the center of the crowd and pistols gets to floss' in

Causing problem dodge' in bullets soon as I corrupt the scene

Leaving damage making havoc reaction fuck'in with me

Chair to your bizack go thru my head when you ignite the flame

Lead to your bizack of your head before it hit your brain

[Chorus: repeat 8X]

We bout to crash da clubs, throw some chairs break some'in