Shyheim - Club Scene lyrics

You want lessons?
It's to get with it, we out nigga come on!

I came into the party with my
Fly Wu Wear shit on
Two hundred in, my teeth flex
Gotta throw my hit on
Movin through the crowd with
My shines hangin out
Hit the bar, for a Henney straight, no chaser
Guzzle it down
Honies crowdin around the Killa Bee
Buy you a drink, you kidding? Love
You got to be since you on my dick
Won't you buy me a drink? Chewin my ear off
Tellin me that she met me in the rink
I don't get tricky, got too much G
Got a degree in PIMP-alogy, acknowledge me
Not a playa, teach these niggas how to be
I'm?Wallabeeneny?
Thugs throw it up, everytime they see me
I hollow back, "Where the bats at?"
Baseball fitted hat, 7-1-8ths
New York Yanks' she was Miss Elliot Trace
From her shoes to her face
With a body just like a Ferrari shape
She asks me
"How you get that cut on your face"?
That's when the DJ shouted out
"Shyheim's in the place"
I was high off the notion and case
It must have been her birthday cuz
She was holdin mad cake
Her man holdin no weight
He low-budget, she told me we was fluckin
We with two of her friends
And three of her cousins
We in the corner whinin
My whole team's shinin
It's time to go when these
Fake rappers start rhymin for real son

You know the club scene, 7-40, I beam
You know the club scene
Big icy links and minks
You know the club scene
Fuck around and get shot
You know the club scene
Niggas spend all they got
You know the club scene, shorty
She lookin hot
You know the club scene, niggas be on Bra'
You know the club scene
You better tuck your watch
You know the club scene
We flossin in the parkin lot

There's a party goin on, down the blizz-ock
In this little hot box
But you might get shot
Cuz there's a lot of Knuckleheadz
Who'll be playin this club
A hole in the wall, I got my gun in
Ain't searchin at all
I watch you hand-to hand niggas
That be tryin to ball
With your little ghetto-fame
Tech to snatch your chain
They used to call him Killa
Now Got-Murdered his name
I smack Earth, Wind & Fire out lames
Take money, thuggin ain't a thing
I got my drink in my right hand
Left hand in my pants i don't dance
Just be loungin in my B-boy stance
Respect my gangsta, move like an army at war
Spit some Willy in the air
And we slid out the door
About a quarter to 4: 00, jumped in the 4x4
Smooth like velour
Say no more, every party I go to
I bring a bird home
Call me Cabosa Indiana Jones

I had this show OT, at this venue called Ritz
I was rockin the mic
When I noticed this bitch
She was lickin her lips and
Her rubbin her tit's
I can tell that she stripped
I had to politic
But she was with this achin bitch
Alienation bitch
Throwin peanuts in my Jif, makin me sick
Etcera, etcera, I'm liable to get rid of her
I don't give a fuck
Took her in the bathroom
Picked her up in the tub
I'm like a drug, I be stalkin the club
Ladies beware, eighteen and above, what?
I'm a heart-breaker, the mind raper
That don't spend no paper and don't
Like bitches that wear makeup