Beat Club Lyrics - Timbaland & Magoo feat. Sin

Sin Indecent Proposal cover art
Release information
Release Date: 2001-11-19
length: 4:48
performer: Sin
[Timbaland]
Beat club!
Untitled, uhh uhh, uhh - YES
Uhh uhh, uhh, YES, uhh uhh
Uhh uhh Timbaland, uhh, uhh uhh
Uhh, uhh uhh - YES, uhh
One, two, three, here we go!

[Troy Mitchell]
Yo, who want to wreck you with the iller thug, super killer thug
You know that thug that's used to doin it out the dub
I go Shaft on *****z, don't make me have to call my killers
Staff on *****z, get bloodbaths for all you *****z
Yo, I ain't tryna talk **** straight up I walk this ****
I'm used to bossin **** and offin clips
See hood is around my way - they talk often quick
To us you spit, and leave that ***** coffin ****
See we gang we never bought it in the streets I slang
Peeps I train to hustle get it take out names
Let me bang and spread it all around the project blocks
I'm sick with glocks now *****es get ridiculous jocks
Now thug filthy *****z walkin through your club with blunts
Grill with fronts, keep Henny on the spill for months
I get trucks from the *****es and the *****z I crush
And figure the last *****z that **** with us

[Magoo]
Yo, Mag never roll with a gun, Mag roll with a two-case
Get up in some beef *****z end up with a screw face
Besides that I got a gang of P-town *****z with court cases
And they all gettin life
We can be enemies after ****in your wife, or runnin train on 'em
Piss on a slut, let it rain on 'em
But I'd rather put my brain on 'em
Look at the *****, she got a frame on 'em
Mag hit it then came on 'em
"Alias," if you with me you ride
Get in the back of the Lex', and be out of your tux
Label me "alias" from my respects to crack this case
I'm past bein berserk, ***** look at my face
I got an ill way of showin my pain
**** talkin how I'm hurt, Mag take out his brain
I'm goin insane and why'all *****z, hatin my thang
Mag the illest ***** spittin, **** the simple and plain

[Sin]
Sin the reason why rap ain't gon' be the same
First *****z speak my name, off with his brain
Put the heat to his back, clap his lungs collapse
If I would sell, six plat', I'm done with rap
How many why'all gotta touch, then found out Sin's too much
Uncut, can't touch
You remind me, of *****; you *****-*** *****
Up North, drawers off, snitch *** *****

[Magoo]
Now I'm hangin with superstars, and ****in them in the cocktail room
After the nuttin, sweep 'em out with the broom
Mag ghetto as ever but mo' cheddar
Used to smoke dub sacks now just pound [unknown]
But I got a sweet tooth for crime but never kill
I run with steel, stay in the house, put my **** up in Jill
Poppin usin' the pill, never did it before
I want to see how it feel, when you **** wit my skill
I make a mil' [unknown], ***** much fine in weather
Fam's wipin' they tongues a little
Mag run for the street, or for the block
Brand new cribs still dissin' the pot
Some bums take change see
Neighbors lookin' at Mag strangely
Find they self, hangin' from a tree
But I'm a real life gleeful
"Alias" is next, but that ***** ain't diesel [unknown]

[Troy Mitchell]
Yo, I used to keep it on the low when I was younger
But now I'm big boss in the game, come let me show you somethin'
So what ya need is a tech or a four-five calico with a nose wide
and women don't know when to slow slide
My A-K in the cut, with my 'dro hidin
I keep them hookers holdin' my fort, and keep a low vibe
I heard the feds hate me 'cause I'm so live
From five o'clock to four-oh-five sellin' quarters and dimes
Even Magoo got a watch I ain't dumb
Ain't no familiars in this place where I'm slingin' it from
I got wholesale weight, that low-sale weight
Or any kind of weight that make my dough flow stright
'Cause I'm oh so great; real thugs, no fake
That's why they down to play me on radio stations and rotations
Thugs hate - everything I stand fo', throw hands fo'
Make plans fo', roll on yo' camp fo'

[Sin]
Laid back in the same colored Escalade
Run over rappers that test the brake
Leave you under the jeep and test your faith
Put it in reverse and, crush your face
Go to court, tell the judge **** the case
Go to jail, no bail, cut your face
Get it right *****, you dealin with apes
I came for the safe now show me the cake, uhh

[Sebastin]
Listen, as soon I'm on the show you struggle in raps
Anticipate nickel plates, man, right where you sat
Like a panel ***** under your shirt, picture that
How your child's gonna burp when you losin your lap?
Hey, I'm bringin the shade, don't floss in the day
*****z think they so cold like they jewelry okay
I'm hittin hoes, respondin like you charmin the dame
Crackin up like, "Damn, which one of why'all paid?"
A pretty boy got hookers thinkin that the blows don't trade
That's the day that the curls slide under the braid
I'll give you somethin sharp to raise that line in your fade
Different ligaments torn for every round that's sprayed
Puttin hoes into groups and spittin them up like Jake
do-rags ain't safe, bullets skip through waves
I'll hop drive-through, pop somethin in Dave
I ain't from around yo' way, ***** I'm from V-A

Lyrics licensed by Lyricfind.com
Tracklist
CD 1
  • 1 Intro
  • 2 Drop
  • 3 All Y'all
  • 4 It's Your Night
  • 5 Indian Carpet
  • 6 Party People
  • 7 People Like Myself
  • 8 Voice Mail
  • 9 Serious
  • 10 Roll Out
  • 11 Love Me
  • 12 Baby Bubba
  • 13 In Time
  • 14 Mr. Richards
  • 15 Considerate Brotha
  • 16 Beat Club
  • 17 I Am Music