Songtext zu 'The Club' von Tony Touch

[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 f**kin wit D, f**kin 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 f**kin 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

F**k 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, f**k 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 f**k 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

F**k 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