Artist: DJ Khaled f/ Future, Rick Ross, YG, Yo Gotti
Album:  Major Key
Song:   Fuck Up the Club
Typed by: Cedmaster3K

[Intro: Future] + (DJ Khaled)
Yeah! This that '63 AMG Ghost music
It's that Ace of Spade girl and it's toast music
Ah, yeah, nigga let's toast to it
(DJ Khaled!) Yea yea!

[Chorus: Future]
We just gon' fuck up the club baby, fuck up the club baby {*3X*}
And you better bring your whole crew
We just gon' fuck up the club baby, fuck up the club baby {*3X*}
Yes any time you want to

[Rick Ross]
Boss
305 on my plates, a nigga still sellin' weight
Still tippin' them scales, I'm Ross, fit in the Wraith
They want too much for the taxes, I got my money in walls
I got all the bitches, nigga I got all the sauce
No reason I should lose (huh!) the leaders of the new (woo!)
Got on a couple chains (woo!) toy bands and tennis shoes
Got on my Vacheron, Belaire, my bottles come
Talkin' menage a trois, shawty let's have some fun (woo!)
Bellas at Wimbledon, hell of a gentleman
There is no bigger boss, if so then send em in
I'm talkin' numbers nigga, I've never fumbled nigga
Standin' on a ball ballin' and I do it when I want it nigga (woo~!)

[Chorus]

[YG]
Ay bring the bands out, yeah all that
400 hundred!
400! 400 hundred!

Young nigga, young nigga, got a gun, run nigga
Painted all the rivers red, this blood shit stuck with him (woo!)
Hustle hard, hustle hard (uhh) bad bitches, fuck 'em all (uhh)
Bid'ness man, bid'ness man, always tryna cut the costs (vroom)
That's photos, that's more dough
Maybachs for everybody, nigga, squad goals
Flex on 'em, they're like "Uh oh!"
Entourage, entourage, pullin' up in four fo' doors
West Coast, that's my shit, 400, that's my clique
Last nigga that beat the pussy up, well, um, that's my bitch
I don't give, no fucks, I don't give, no fucks
Forty bands, just blew in the club, oh well nigga, so what?

[Chorus]

[YG - over Chorus]
400 hundred! 400!
Khaled, Khaled whattup? All the bands
All the bands, all the bands
All the bands, fuck all her friends
All the bands, spend all the bands
Spend all the bands

[Yo Gotti]
Aces comin' by the twelve pack, young nigga in a Hellcat (vroom)
GPS on the pack, tell the plug they can mail that (yeah)
Tell the plug they can mail that (yeah) young nigga, I'ma sell that (yeah)
Mouth closed, I'll never talk, won't say a word and went to jail that (yeah)
Sauce drippin', I'll fuck 'em up, .40 on me 'til I cough it up
Big Gotti, I'm bossin' up, if it's under $100, it don't cost enough
+Tearin' Clubs Up+ like Three 6
I be tearin' plugs up, that's that street shit
I be fuckin' boss bitches, they don't need shit
Tell me, where my boss bitches who don't need shit?
Yeah, these diamonds, not rhinestones, trap jumpin', yeah the line long (skrt!)
All this money got my mind gone, all this money got my mind gone

[Chorus]