The Club lyrics

Artist  : Tony Touch Featuring D.I.T.C., Kid Capri, Party Artie 
Song : The Club
 


[OC]
The whole city's under siege when we come
through wit guns blazin
You need to take a seat
son, you just started shavin
Respect ya elders,
stay in a child's play
The monotone flow stayin
even wit the bass
Oh good Lord, we throw it
like a javelin toss
Arrogance is the feature
that we added for floss
Come and get headline,
destined to get riches
From either rappin our
ass off or brick shipments
Cover all regions,
makin sure the protty gets spread out
We talk
behind the mac you bust lead out
Wit next
prospect, no particular concept do we
follow
Smooth but yet solid like
marble

[Diamond]
Niggas ain't fuckin
wit D, fuckin wit me
Lookin at me like "Yo,
what can it be?"
In the wide body-7 while you
suckin the D
Spent out in the wedge while I'm
fuckin for free
Scared to death like you stuck
in a tree
I'ma stretch your ass out like I'm
cuttin the deed
Frontin like a big man but you
stuck in a three
So you know your floss game
ain't nuttin to me
When the sun hits the
cross, yo it's something to see
R-B, Kid Capri
niggas runnin wit me
Twenty karats on the wrist
ain't nuttin to me
Do you know good frontin to
me, nigga

[Kid Capri]
Aiyyo Tone, let's
Touch these niggas wit the wand
Then blow up
like a bomb
Made moves faster than the
autobond
The Kid Capri is a institution, and
all ya'll niggas is pollution
Starin up a
whole lot of confusion
It's simple, let's move
out all these corn cats
And disc jock dissin
MC's that got the borin raps
Fuck what ya got,
grimy niggas don't wanna hear it
Niggas take
it, soon as they near it, you better fear
it
Bronx Bomber, the pretty-fly girl
charmer
The black Italian, the cash keep pilin
as I'm smilin
So hear me now, I bring the
thunder plus the rumble
And I'll step back and
watch your whole career just
crumble

[AG]
Well it's the cheeba
steamer, brains on trains, won't eat her
neither
Benz to the plane, off the plane to
the Beemer
Insane and off the meter, in the
rain I'll heat up
And ya'll can't stop my
sunshine, fuck one-time
Got heavy wit gats to
push your face back
Trash-ass album sound like
you played it on eight-track
Rip you from the
roots and under
Triple gooses in the
summer
Mean long guns is producin the
thunder
Convertible Hummers, we shit on the
glock
Try to put the roof up, I'll tell Show
to piss on the top
Wrist on the watch, roll
wit a click or a glock
Plan on gettin a lot,
from spittin or not
Cool wit niggas that be
flippin a lot
Probably got shit on your
block
And if you hate, I'll take it back to
'88 (Nigga, get off the top)
It's two-g's,
let's get this money, you wit it or not
But
I'll switch topics like my bitch wit thongs in
the tropics
Make hits, straight
hits
Perform as long as I got
it
Seven-digits wit my name on the
dotted
Remain Dirty and potted, ya'll know me
for the ruckus
G.D. I only can fuck wit
Get
the dutch and tell Tony to Touch it

[Party
Artie]
Guns, I tote them things
Blunts, I
smoke them things
Rhymes, I wrote them
things
It's no such thing, as hoes
fron-ting
We run train, I do my thug
thing
Grab the mic and leave a mud stain
So
get Tide wit bleach when I rhyme wit
beats
Niggas do crimes to eat
No pork, I
don't talk, the nines just speak
I'm the kind
to creep on your block wit the heat cocked
Got
the street locked, smackin niggas out they
Reeboks
It's Party Artie, I get dirty wit the
Ewoks
The infrared hit you in the head from
three blocks
Away, Been There Done That like
Dr. Dre
It Ain't My Fault like Silkk the
Shocker say
Ya'll niggas gots to pay, shots'll
spray
From the Bronx to Far Rock away
My
whole team, strapped like Bokeem
Fuck bein in
jail, trapped wit no cream

[Lord
Finesse]
I be the don that's known to have the
style sewn
More cheese than calzones, give
chicks the dialtone
Build like brownstones
when we slaughter your plan
Touch albums, so
hot comes wit a portable fan
Type to starve
the mic when I hog the light
Lay my life on
the lines if the odds is right
Gettin the,
spot and gleam while you plot and scheme
To
stop the team, three words nigga: watch and
dream
You just mad hater, cuz we movin wit
dough
You don't make sense like wearin suede
shoes in the snow
Finesse frontin? Y'all know
me, I don't stress nuttin
Bought your album,
that's how I broke the eject button
Don't
stress dudes, we just plot our next move
Make
niggas look stupid like joggin pants wit dress
shoes
The prophet, shit john blaze like the
tropics
Type of nigga need a ? just for my
pockets
Don't flex punks, we sex stunts,
collect lumps
You flossin now, you be pardon
by next month
Type of thug, yo I was born to
bug
Waitin for us to fall, nigga join the
club, what