Lyrics Felly – Club Bang

Felly:
Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go
Aye
Uh, dream, dream, dream, like you’ve never dreamt

When the beat drop
I be on degrees like my tea pot
Girls know the team hot
227 g-spot
Blast through your beat box
Your rap game, Steve Jobs
Back pain, still pulling boats out the marina, uh
Sitting sideways
Sippin on sundays
Catching fade
Getting blazed in the shade, uh
She only trying to get wavy
Why my people so complacent?
I don’t want pictures, I want paintings
These Felly raps bring helipads
Damn, you been through hell and back
I could probably break the map
When you rare as pterodactyl
Ashing on the porch, while Gyppsy ask for tattoos
My momma say we bad news
But shit y’all made me have to
I’m lo-, loading up a little Cali

Gyyps:
Donut starving, beg my pardon, I’m a starving artist
My daddy said to join the fire department or the army
I never listen to my fucking father
He gave me nothing but some fucking problems
And all the cocaine, I saw it
Get the propane for my momma
She can grill steak in the mornin’
Haven’t ate in days, so my brain is open
Can’t see straight, so I’m hanging over
The paint is showing, the paint is golden
I got gold chains like David Bowie
No I didn’t motherfucking pay, I stole it
Going insane, ain’t afraid to know it
In my garage, it’s way deep in Canoga
Neighbor a gangster, her daughter a chola
I seen them titties, the window was open
Speaking in Spanish, quiero te boca
My passion, it burning, my momma concerned
‘Bout the words that I’m spurting, when she hear my verses
I ain’t too worried cause I got a plan to make all these fans fucking worship in churches
Biitch!

Outro:
We did it again! Did it again! We did it again! Shit, we fans, did it again! I hit the verse with a bong in my hand, I hit the verse with a bong in my hand

Now I’m drunk as fuck, too turnt up to-

That’s that 227 g-spot
That’s that 227 g-spot
That’s that 227 g-spot
That’s that 227 g-spot
That’s that 227 g-spot

Hit it, hit it

Fuckin’, walkin’, with a fuckin’ limp, aye
I ain’t fuckin with you fuckin’ cell, no
Me and Felly doin’ shit like you, fam
Do this shit like we be doin’ roll, bands

Sorry, then we, just hit it first time
Too hot, for you motha’ fuckas’ (Goddamn it!) to compete with us, and we goin’, in a fuckin’ yellow bus
Like The Beatles, like we fuckin’, uh, sippin margaritas

Where my 40 at? Where the fuck my 40 at?
How the fuck you feelin’ with a baseball bat?
How the fuck you feel me when debating on that? Aye
I be on train tracks, sippin’ and smokin’ on wack, aye
Sippin’ and smokin’ on wax, sippin’ and smokin’ my packs, uhh