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Spiked Punch
¡MAYDAY!
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🇬🇧 English · Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Somebody put a little bit of that alcohol
In my little red cup and we can drink it all
Motherfucker this that heat, this that Panama
And y'all boys wanna sing along the catalog
I'm like beer shots and donuts in the parking lot
Good pot when my music drop
And even if I ever wanted to I'd never stop
But hold up motherfuckers, someone spike the mocs
We got Bloods and Crips in the parking lot
Somebody talking too much so he might get shot
This nigga play too much and he say too much
He from whoopty whoop and he from such and such
I'm like what the fuck, can we all just chill
Before I make a phone call and this shit get real
Matter of fact fuck the phone call, this ain't '06
I'm 'bout to knock you out on some old school shit
And it's a total mix of bi-coastal spit
Words made in many merch but a loco fit
I got shade in the distance on my back
But I keep running for the ones who feeling under attack
Had a late night convo up with Nick Carter
Went to sleep awake now I feel a bit smarter
Ladies in the front keeping us a bit harder
The punch bowl filled with the smiles of Armada
What you think you a part of?
A world full of honors?
A planet full of farmers?
Over a little bit of ganja?
I got a crew over yonder
That wanna make your wonders
We here to party all summer
And spike every bowl with the love that I'm on
All I see is pussy, Prada, whole lotta colada
Pussy, Prada, whole lotta colada
Pussy, Prada, whole lotta colada
Pussy, Prada, whole lotta colada
Spike punch, showing love up in the club
Gotta show a little love to the ones that I love
Spike punch, give me love up in the club
Gotta give a little love to the ones that I love
Spike punch, where the love up in the club?
Gotta get a little love from the ones that I love
Spike punch, give me drugs up in the club
Gotta get a little buzz from the ones that I love
I ain't 'bout no second guessing
Broke the watch on my wrist, I ain't stressing
Cash on the beat 'cause it sound expensive
When I see what I want I ain't apprehensive
Club full of thugs trying to release tension
And a couple bad bitches trying to give me affection
Birds in the studio giving us lessons
Over shots of tequila making shit infectious
What the fuck is bachata? What's up with a rata?
A rata, a rata, what's up with my vatos?
De los ciscos, no mismo, I'm not from the East Coast
'Bout to bail to the store for a bolsa of Fritos
Fritos, Fritos, what's up with them chicas?
What's up with your homegirl, esta la bonita?
She looking at me crazy, I might get her pregnant
I'm way too turnt so I gotta let Ray bend
We get extra questions, what a hell plex been
Are y'all really text friends? Can you get guests in?
I don't need a job so this interview's over
Getting the pop lock 'til the profit is so sure
Then getting the closure, feeling oh so sore
From running 'round the planet doing damage with no cure
Gimme gimme horns hit the Betty Galore
Grabbing everything in sight and we ready for more
All I see is pussy, Prada, whole lotta colada
Pussy, Prada, whole lotta colada
Pussy, Prada, whole lotta colada
Pussy, Prada, whole lotta colada
Spike punch, showing love up in the club
Gotta show a little love to the ones that I love
Spike punch, give me love up in the club
Gotta give a little love to the ones that I love
Spike punch, where the love up in the club?
Gotta get a little love from the ones that I love
Spike punch, give me drugs up in the club
Gotta get a little buzz from the ones that I love