[Lil' Wyte]
  ...ah yeah Hypnotize Minds, wassup Lil' Wyte featuring Juvenile
  Crash the mothafuckin' club, the REMIX!! - and its goin' down for you hoes
  Like THIS!!...Multiple Memphis scares, outlining your insides wit' bars
  Grippin' your nina hard, bitch my blood inha-led by heart
  When the fuck you gon' start, recognize that life is a game
  And it's always the same, them dice you rolling ain't 'Bouta change
  I'm snatchin' your chain, reimbursing you with some pain
  It's all over mane, in which direction he makes a zane
  I ain't 'bout that fame, I'm 'bout the cheese, and this 'Bouta bring
  So fuck your hoe name, with you my faith was lacking some things
  I'm starting all over with composition sticky like doja
  And I thought I told ya when I come through I'm crushing like boulders
  I'm hard ta top, shoot at plenty I bet it's gon' knock it - whatever I drop
  But even your beef can't touch what I got
  You wildin' or not, if is so bring all your beef ta the spot
  Hope you got your glock, I'm strapped with no hesi-tant ta pop
  So back your words up, and keep on choking out on that cock
  You like it or not, its everlasting - ain't 'Bouta stop
    [Hook: Lil Wyte - repeat 8X]
  We 'Bouta Crash Da Club - throw some chairs
  [DJ Scratching] Break - Break...Break - Break...Break Something
    [Juvenile]
  Aiyo smoke something, choke something, get real nice
  We ain't gon, fall on our face - but we gon' be right
  Look, police ain't around when I do my dirt
  Becuz I map it all loud and then I put in work
  You with them freaks - I be in the streets
  Y'all be wearing them Bee's - I be wearing Ree's
  Running wit' my g's from the U-T-P
  This is where I'm gonna be until I D-I-E
  Wodie, it's goin' down from the Easy Bay ta the West Bay
  Where niggaz drank V.S.O.P. until they breath stank
  Bitch gatta say something, err' time
  They never handle they buisness, but staying in line
  Seeking you will find, the loaded up .9
  Wanted at 'cha cuz it of fa' stealin' my mind
  Juvenile and Three-6 thats a-one-of-a-kind
  Tooken up yo golds - nigga get ready ta blind
    [Hook]
    [Lil' Wyte]
  I'm 'Bouta crash da club, break the law
  Throw some chairs, crack your jaw
  If it's killing season - ain't no reason - ain't no need ta stale
  I'm the one put here ta absorb all this energy and pain
  Non-stop-pop-from-the-top-of-the-clip-in-ya-glock, I still don't feel you mane
  Cause of that, ground the coke and now I'm puffin' a pound of dro
  When I'm on that level and wit' my killaz you will be found on the flo'
  I must confes, I ain't 'bout shit, but if you think ta cross me bitch
  You'll end up stanky - walk the planky - and empty out your pockets bitch
  Break da law, break your leg, crash da club and crack your neck
  Wit' these issues that I'm facing - daily I should tote a tec
  Get respect, that's no option, all the haters filled with toxin'
  Walk right through the center of the crowd and pistols get ta flossin'
  Causing problem - dodging bullets - soon as I corrupt the scene
  Leaving damage - making havoc reaction fuckin' with me
  Chair to your bizack go through my head when you ignite the flame
  Lead to your bizack of your hizead before it hit your brain
    [Hook]