This song seemingly tackles the methods of deception those who manipulate others use to get victims to follow their demands, as well as diverting attention away from important issues. They'll also use it as a means to convince people to hate or kill others by pretending acts of terrorism were committed by the enemy when the acts themselves were done by the masters of control to promote discrimination and hate. It also reinforces the idea that these manipulative forces operate in various locations, infiltrating everyday life without detection, and propagate any and everywhere.
In general, it highlights the danger of hidden agendas, manipulation, and distraction, serving as a critique of those who exploit chaos and confusion to control and gain power, depicting a cautionary tale against falling into their traps. It encourages us to question the narratives presented to us and remain vigilant against manipulation in various parts of society.
Uh huh (We came to bust heads)
Uh huh (We came to bust heads)
Uh huh (We came to bust heads)
This is the official (the official)
Get yo ass knocked out music (get yo ass knocked the fuck out!)
For bein' a non-hood affiliate nigga
GIB
ACP
Get it boys, hypnotize minds (what?)
Hypnotize minds, you know how its goin' down
We comin' dirty we comin' dirty
[Chorus]
The club gettin' crowded, throw up yo set and shout it
You talk but you ain't 'bout it
Nigga huh, nigga huh
We off that juice and Hen', I snuck that burna in
We're set trippin'
Nigga what, nigga what
I crept in the spot with a chrome strap
Haters that trip get blown back
We off that hash and cognac
Head bussin' we on that
Wanna freak out better pull that ho
Take her to the bar and full that ho
Get her in the bathroom, get some head
I'm a playa ain't know?
Cowards know me so they starin'
Trippin' off the jewels I'm wearin'
My nigga I pack stern
Police in herr, we ain't carrin'
Pussy don't pump in blood
Real niggas always show me love
Fake niggas keep yo caps and hugs
Real niggas got them gats and slugs
If you want, you can get it
Put a couple, in yo fitted
We ain't never scared trick
Tell 'em GIB did it
Dragged that punk up out this place for putting his fingers in my face
I almost caught a fuckin' case
(You cool dirty?) Yeah I'm straight
[Chorus: x2]
Yeah, what!
Now I ain't even worried bout you, haters
Three 6 Mafia fakers
You talk like commentators
You fiction like Terminator
My nation eliminata
Under, estimater
Stomp 'em to the pavement with some Air Force One gators (Bitch!)
I pay 'em no mind, I show 'em my nine
I slap 'em, a couple a times and any a mine
I promise, he be aight he jus' needed some wakin' up
And I guess he thought, ACP and GIB was bluffin' (Yeah!)
You got some pimps off in dis buildin'
Smokin' with yo children
In the back of the club, with my thugs syrup sippin'
What's up with yo bitch, suckin' dick and she givin'
Credit cards to G's with keys for dis pimpin'
They see the D-Boys shinin' grindin' then they get this feelin'
Don't hate on me or play with me
These Mafia boys be killin'
They call my Juicy J, I got that SK that be drillin'
You fuck with me you might get hit
I'm known for dome peelin'
[Chorus: x2]
(Ride out niggas!)
Dammit Memphis on the scene
They sippin' syrup and ridin' clean
On the block we by some beams
These stacks is bulgin' out my jeans
You know these hoes be on my nuts
Take in the rims on the truck
Schemin' tryin' to take my bucks
Yeah bitch I know whats up
Ching-a-ling and Three 6
You got bricks? We flip
Don't come sideways tryin' to playa hustle, we hip
Two clips one glock, leave ya flat from one shot
Cats playin' the role of Makeveli, its only one Pac
Come equipped or don't come
Show up homie, don't run
Best believe we won't run
After the party get ya guns
Ain't no parking lot pimpin'
Only parking lot poppin'
Man what will stand down ho?
You herrd them K's choppin'
[Chorus: x2]
Uh huh (We came to bust heads)
Uh huh (We came to bust heads)
This is the official (the official)
Get yo ass knocked out music (get yo ass knocked the fuck out!)
For bein' a non-hood affiliate nigga
GIB
ACP
Get it boys, hypnotize minds (what?)
Hypnotize minds, you know how its goin' down
We comin' dirty we comin' dirty
[Chorus]
The club gettin' crowded, throw up yo set and shout it
You talk but you ain't 'bout it
Nigga huh, nigga huh
We off that juice and Hen', I snuck that burna in
We're set trippin'
Nigga what, nigga what
I crept in the spot with a chrome strap
Haters that trip get blown back
We off that hash and cognac
Head bussin' we on that
Wanna freak out better pull that ho
Take her to the bar and full that ho
Get her in the bathroom, get some head
I'm a playa ain't know?
Cowards know me so they starin'
Trippin' off the jewels I'm wearin'
My nigga I pack stern
Police in herr, we ain't carrin'
Pussy don't pump in blood
Real niggas always show me love
Fake niggas keep yo caps and hugs
Real niggas got them gats and slugs
If you want, you can get it
Put a couple, in yo fitted
We ain't never scared trick
Tell 'em GIB did it
Dragged that punk up out this place for putting his fingers in my face
I almost caught a fuckin' case
(You cool dirty?) Yeah I'm straight
[Chorus: x2]
Yeah, what!
Now I ain't even worried bout you, haters
Three 6 Mafia fakers
You talk like commentators
You fiction like Terminator
My nation eliminata
Under, estimater
Stomp 'em to the pavement with some Air Force One gators (Bitch!)
I pay 'em no mind, I show 'em my nine
I slap 'em, a couple a times and any a mine
I promise, he be aight he jus' needed some wakin' up
And I guess he thought, ACP and GIB was bluffin' (Yeah!)
You got some pimps off in dis buildin'
Smokin' with yo children
In the back of the club, with my thugs syrup sippin'
What's up with yo bitch, suckin' dick and she givin'
Credit cards to G's with keys for dis pimpin'
They see the D-Boys shinin' grindin' then they get this feelin'
Don't hate on me or play with me
These Mafia boys be killin'
They call my Juicy J, I got that SK that be drillin'
You fuck with me you might get hit
I'm known for dome peelin'
[Chorus: x2]
(Ride out niggas!)
Dammit Memphis on the scene
They sippin' syrup and ridin' clean
On the block we by some beams
These stacks is bulgin' out my jeans
You know these hoes be on my nuts
Take in the rims on the truck
Schemin' tryin' to take my bucks
Yeah bitch I know whats up
Ching-a-ling and Three 6
You got bricks? We flip
Don't come sideways tryin' to playa hustle, we hip
Two clips one glock, leave ya flat from one shot
Cats playin' the role of Makeveli, its only one Pac
Come equipped or don't come
Show up homie, don't run
Best believe we won't run
After the party get ya guns
Ain't no parking lot pimpin'
Only parking lot poppin'
Man what will stand down ho?
You herrd them K's choppin'
[Chorus: x2]
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
Club Gettin' Crowded Lyrics as written by J. Houston Howard Earl Bailey
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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