FTCU (feat. GloRilla & Gangsta Boo)

Man, I'm in the VIP, I done walked straight past you hoes (bitch)
You ain't see me? (d.a. got that dope)
I ain't seen you either, bitch

Fuck the club up (fuck the club up)
Fuck the club up (fuck the club up)
I might stand up on yo' shit and fuck a dub up (bitch)
Fuck the club up (fuck the club up)
Fuck the club up (fuck the club up)
I might go off in your shit, you tryna mug us (bitch)

Tear the club down (fuck it up)
Stomp a bitch out (fuck it up)
Stand up in these new Bottega, fuck your damn couch (fuck it up)
Start a bottle war, these bitches barely keeping up (yeah, hoe)
Muggin' like they want some smoke, but they ain't deep enough
They weak as fuck (yeah)

Young, ratchet, rich and I'm rude as fuck, these bitches know it's up (bitch)
Came in this bih with the stick, don't at me, bitch, you know it's tucked (brrt)
Hottest in my city, bitch, me and these diamonds hittin'
Better not run up on Big Latto, give no fuck about no image

Throw them ones, fuck that flow
Drag that bitch, fuck that hoe (yeah, yeah)
You could get yo' ass beat up right here and take this shit to go
Throw them ones, fuck that flow
Drag that bitch, fuck that hoe (ay, ay)
And security can't even save yo' ass, they know I'm trained to go

Fuck the club up (fuck the club up)
Fuck the club up (fuck the club up)
I might stand up on yo' shit and fuck a dub up (bitch)
Fuck the club up (fuck the club up)
Fuck the club up (fuck the club up) (GloRilla)
I might go off in your shit, you tryna mug us (woo, hey, hey)

I can't walk up in that club if I ain't get that backend (give me that)
They was at the club on live, we caught them bitches lackin' (cap)
Eleven deep up in this booth, we posted like, "What's happenin'?" (What up?)
I pray to God a hoe don't run up, all my bitches jackin' (three thousand)

Ayy, I told them folks to Google me or somethin' 'cause I don't show ID (nah)
And I 'on't give my number out in clubs, they gotta follow me (on IG)
Four cars full of shooters just in case they try to follow me (huh?)
Keep them pistols in the party, we 'on't go by policies (we 'on't do that)

Ayy, we in the club with drugs just like a pharmacy (high as fuck)
Strictly popping off on bitches, we not arguin' (where they do that?)
Walk up in your party, make that bitch my party, ayy (on gang)
And we just spiced it up and got them bitches salty, on gang

Fuck the club up (fuck the club up)
Fuck the club up (fuck the club up)
I might stand up on yo' shit and fuck a dub up (bitch)
Fuck the club up (fuck the club, yeah)
Fuck the club up (fuck the club)
I might go off in your shit, you tryna mug us

Fuck the club up (fuck the club up)
Fuck the club up (fuck the club up)
I might stand up on yo' shit and fuck a dub up (bitch)
Fuck the club up (yeah)
Fuck the club up (yeah)
I might go off in your shit, you tryna mug us

Yeah, hoe
(Fuck it up, fuck it up)
Yeah, hoe
Fuck it up



Credits
Writer(s): Jordan Houston, Jacquez Lowe, David L Doman, Ricky Dunigan, Robert Edward Cooper, Lola Chantrelle Mitchell, Darnell Carlton, Paul Beauregard, Alyssa Stephens, Matthew Raymond Van Den Heuvel, Gloria Woods
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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