Up in Da Club Lyrics
Compton in the house
2-2-0
[Hook](DJ Quik)
Up in da club
(Where You chillin for the summer, homey?)
Up in da club
(Jumpin out the stretch hummer runnin)
Up in da club
(Fly ladies from wall the wall)
Up in da club
(With my beats I'm fadin all a y'all)
Up in da club
(Can a playa spend his double life)
Up in da club
(Before she shank me with a butter knife)
Up in da club
(Upper level or lower life)
Up in da club
(Still the same where we coincide)
(Verse 1: Gangsta D)
If You lookin for a man with a bulge in his pants
Who really ain't trippin about a one night stand
I'll be that dude that'll leave you wishin
That's floatin in ya love pond, strictly fishin
See, baby, lookin cute with a bathing suit
Pants like all in the ass without the zoom
I'm gangsta, baby don't you know we keep the heaters hot
Summertime, when we grind bumpin on yo block
In the club smokin trees, drinkin hennessey
Crack a straggla to the fullest is my strategy
Ain't no need for actin uptight with Gangsta D
Now put ya drinks in the air and make a toast to me
Cause I'm off the red eye flight
Flyin overseas for the ladies with the tight
Tell me what you like
Fast or slow? In my car or on dubs?
A straight fuckin while we buckin, baby
(CHORUS)
(Verse 2: K.K.)
Now K.K. got a space at the back of the club, low key
I did my thang in the car that's why I skip past the broad
Got my eyes on tight, I'm headed straight for a corner
Got my eyes on this freak with 10 suckas all upon her
The type that claim they fly and fresh
Yappin like hoes bout who got the best Rolex, sweat
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Drenchin all on my head and my shirt
It's time to shake my buzz, grab a skirt and go to work
Crack the dance floor wit me but don't hurt ya self
Nice at the summertime at the club(Oh Yeah)
The tricks come to spend a lot
On these tricks off the knot
That's why they get with pockets ripped to they socks
Damn! These pretty hoes comin in flocks
Talkin about how many freaks I got
That's why, I go sometimes for a minute & shake the spot
It's either too damn crowded or hella hot
(CHORUS)
(Verse 3: AMG)
Yeah, ho is Dolce & Gabanna, ya mama
In the six rebel
Big face, she wanna know how my hit tastes
Yeah, I remember these freaks by face
Or they nipples or they cheeks to the belly chains on they waist
Most of y'all knees n' knuckles, Cartier belt buckles
Lookin for a nigga to hustle
Shit, I'm the next multi-million dollar black man
For all y'all ain't grizzlin' niggas
Take, check the soundscan
Quik gotta beat that'll cost a hundred grand
Party from LA, to Rio to Japan
If you in the stands, throw up both ya hands
If you in the hood with the leather'n'wood
Let these hoes know 2-2-0 got the do-do
Find me on the net, dot com the text
VISA, Mastercard, American Express
(overlapped by chorus)Spending, BITCH!!!
(Chorus Till Fade)
