I don't dance, I don't jump, I don't front I do the fuck what I want [Verse 1: Pressure] Pressure tired as fuck lining up It's getting old, its cold and half the night is up And you wonder why fights erupt, wisen up Mr. Door bitch let me inside the club With his gelled hair, tight pants, silky shirt, man fag Let me in soon or I'mma piss in your hand bag What's he gonna do if he gets bashed in the streets He ain't a bouncer he's just the fasion police You know whats tragic a girl stops traffic You let her in stop a bloke, thats a cock block faggot Get a sweater for my dress code Would you suggest go matching in sweaters with my best bro's An entry pass, give me entry fast Before your head comes acquainted with an empty glass Clubs and bad pussy are one and the same After I talk my way in I'm never coming again [Chorus:] I don't dance when the DJ sweats me I don't jump when the MC begs me I don't front and there is no cop I do the fuck what I want [Verse 2: Trials] Mr. Trials, grubby in a club with a nice shirt Try'na find a honey with some money and a nice purse I'm on a bender and broke won't stop us So I hobble to a rich bitch as think as their wallet Promised the world to this girl that I'd get her heart racing Sip into sick pints and I'm always sayin' same shit I need a drink like Mick Jagger needs a hit I need a drink like Angelina needs to leave her lips I'm at my peace when I'm pissed, if I get a drink Tell a chick whatever I got tell her to make her my bank teller I'm a rank feller in need of Jesus Juice, Jesus Christ would I need to do Stop the whole girl flattery thing People buy it better when you walk around with charity tins Now say I'm fucked from birth, find a girl with purse that buldge and drink and problem solved [Chorus] [Verse 3: Hons] Hons the last dude that want to check your tracks For real what you think I'm about to press it up on ear wax I doubt that thats one thing I hate about cats spitting in ya ear like its ness in '58 I wanna tell em' get fucked I came hear to get drunk and throw game like bad losers thats run out of luck But yet I'm stuck feeling awkward with some cats spittin flavour in my ear like Craig Mac was in my Walkman I'd rather shit talk and at least I'd get a word in Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com and not some rappers dinner all floating in my bourban And when he's spittin I ain't even listening I came to see the live set not a pop star audition And I couldn't really care about the shit you write and if I want my ear chewed then I'd go turn to turn with Tyson And if your offended I ain't try'na be harsh I'll hear your shit when it drops so leave me at the fucking bar [Chorus] [Verse 4: Suffa] Suffa standing at the bar cos I wanna shout, a round Getting ignored so I had to pull my wallet out I'm down with the fact that you wanna get some play bro But you've been serving chicks while I've been standing here like "ey yo" Don't take all day bro, stop that weak shit That girl dont want you, that bitch wants a free drink Now I'm getting shitted out this cat would've bought the bitter out If I was a broad and walked in with my titties out Ohh this bar tender thinks he can get these girls tipsy In hopes of a wristy On the real son, try make me feel dumb If I can't buy a fucking drink I'mma steal one and spit liquor on the bar to set it on fire Half price drinks is what it said on the flyer But I can't even get served man, yeah thats chill Ignore me all night I'mma rip off ya till [Chorus] [Verse 5: Sesta] Unlce Sesta rolling up already half cut Bouncer still mad as a mother fucker from last month I've done fucked up tequila, lethal Have me st