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Chorus
Tear da club up, nigg* tear da club up
(DJ Paul)
This for all the playa haters who be talkin' that s**t
The Three 6 show no love we quick to murder a trick
You could be a friend or foe
Kinda down or not
I'm rollin with tha fool Crunchy and we got them glocks
Backed up by da 4-5 and the 38
You wanna take this click to war
Fool it'll be a mistake
Chris bring the mossberg with the slugs and s**t
We got some graves for ya body already dug and s**t
Infamous grab the cali with a 100 rounds
Koopsta load da tech and blow dem b*stards down
Juice wit the two 9's like a nigg* name Shae
On the move we shoot 'em up so hard they feel the pain
I thought you knew that I'm from Memphis where the s**t is so thick
When at the club we got so bucked we try to tear up sum s**t
Gangsta Boo da gangsta b*tch wit the 357
Our main goal in life is an opposite heaven
Triple 6 b*tch!
Chorus
(Lord Infamous)
Deadly
We should begin to come close to da killa dimentions
getting lynchin' from the Triple 6 anti-christians
May I mention
The slugs I steadily blast cause im unmerciful
Bullets that bombin' an enemy nigg*
See death is unreversable
Hardness is your fantasy
Death is not fiction on you girls
fk around and find you wannabe as* out with the morticians
Executioner style buck in yo head while ya beg on yo knees
Await till you bustas lay deadin' the mourg and chillin' in cold freezers
Teflon penetrating an the penalties that leave punishment
Then me and my Triple 6 we gonna blow an ounce of blue hair trick
I could give a fk less b*tch im glad that you dead and gone
Three 6 Mafia sign out names on fkin' tombstones
Memphis is the fkin city where Lord Infamous loves to bail
And just like I said before
b*tch come with Me to Hell
Everybody in this house you know what's up
Lemme see can all you muth*fkas tear dis club up
Chorus
(Juicy "J")
Tear da club up nigg* tear da club up
All these playa hatas in the club got us fked up
Yes
I'm the nigg* with them two 9's ready to blast
When I pull em out ya muth*fkas betta haul ass
Paul thowin' chairs in tha air
Koopsta locin' up
Fly takin' cash from yo ass
Mr. Stick em up
fk da d*mn sucurity
fk a muth*fkin cop
If they kick me out da club
I'll buck 'em in tha parkin' lot
Grab the club owner, put the rich b*tch
In the trunk
Take 'em out and take his money then I spit on da punk
Now I'm crunk
Breakin bottles up against da fkin' wall
Shootin tones at them fools
Till them jealous bustas fall
fk these testin' pimpin'
We gon' burry all you hoes
Slicin' girls right in half
Stompin 'em straight through tha floor
talkin plenty s**t
But they aint buck enough
We gon' get some dynamite and blow this muth*fka up
Chorus