Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Club House, artist - Toosii.
Date of issue: 05.02.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Club House |
One, two, three straps inside my club house |
Four, Five, Six fuck around we at a club out |
Only niggas wear white tees inside my club house |
You can’t be around if you ain’t never shut the club down |
Bitch I be with, all them niggas who really with that |
Catch a body, that’s my body, ain’t gotta split that |
Bust his brains, we’ll give a nigga a shit bag |
My ex be tryna' talk, I tell her oh we playin' tic-tac-toe |
She got a thing for them shooters know we on go |
Like seven, eight, nine of these niggas are off the scope |
That be ten, eleven, twelve |
Give me thirteen reasons he shouldn’t go to hell |
Pardon my step, but I give on it |
New ice, I can change the climate |
I know storms in Chicago |
New car hit the road no mileage |
Every time we pop out in they section, like you cocky |
Bitch I heard what you said, ain’t got to ask me if I copy |
They know all this shit get rocky, like balboa |
Bitch I never danced, I do my jig out to the floor |
Don’t ask me if I’m fuckin' with that hoe you know she tore up |
They say my city been waiting for a nigga like me to blow up |
I tell her to grow up |
You go up, we go up |
My whole life projectile, like it’s throw up |
Don’t tell me what you gon' do nigga you must not know us |
You can play the base lil nigga that wasn’t for us |
One, two, three straps inside my club house |
Four, Five, Six fuck around we at a club out |
Only niggas wear white tees inside my club house |
You can’t be around if you ain’t never shut the club down |
Bitch I be with, all them niggas who really with that |
Catch a body, that’s my body, ain’t gotta split that |
Bust his brains, we’ll give a nigga a shit bag |
My ex be tryna' talk, I tell her oh we playin' tic-tac-toe |
She got a thing for them shooters know we on go |
Like seven, eight, nine of these niggas are off the scope |
That be ten, eleven, twelve |
Give me thirteen reasons he shouldn’t go to hell |
You can call yo top shoota' |
We’ll spin a block shoot em' |
Ian never shot a cop, but bitch I be with cop shootas |
My lil homie off the grid, he popped the lid and talked to em' |
His mama been beggin' me to call his phone and talk to him |
Call like yesterday, keep a cold like yesterday |
I wasn’t even gon' fuck on that hoe, but I told her yes today |
Finger fuck the trigger, bitch I had a lil sex today |
Ian tryna be boo’d up, bitch I ain’t Ella Mai |
Cold storm, move Frita |
ARP, new heater |
My brother, my brother, poured a walk inside a two meter |
Imma come around, bitch I gotta cop some new beaters |
They say I’m hot cause a nigga ride round with two heaters |
One, two, three straps inside my club house |
Four, Five, Six fuck around we at a club out |
Only niggas wear white tees inside my club house |
You can’t be around if you ain’t never shut the club down |
Bitch I be with, all them niggas who really with that |
Catch a body, that’s my body, ain’t gotta split that |
Bust his brains, we’ll give a nigga a shit bag |
My ex be tryna' talk, I tell her oh we playin' tic-tac-toe |
She got a thing for them shooters know we on go |
Like seven, eight, nine of these niggas are off the scope |
That be ten, eleven, twelve |
Give me thirteen reasons he shouldn’t go to hell |