Madchild and Step Brothers - Club 33

Everyone wants to go no one can get in
There’s this thing called Club 33
It’s a really big deal
You can’t get in no matter what
The only way to go there is
If you pay this ridiculous fee
Where, I mean it’s a thousand dollars
Like, like a hundred years and
All this fucking shit
And eventually you gain access, 2k to get in

Ay
I’m a caterpillar turning into a butterfly
Crazy baby with the butter
Knife singing lullabies
Still holding on, hanging tough
Writing all the time hanging on like a koala
Bear that’s overqualified
About to go postal
Kill everyone like Columbine
Almost lost my fucking mind had
To fall in line
I’m a member of a secret society
But frequently I’m still a freak with anxiety
Misguided angel just stays home
‘Cause good MCs are hard to
Find like pagers and payphones
Mind’s a lethal environment
I’ve got tunnel vision
Now that the sun has risen
I have broken out of prison
King Kong, rhyme spine tingling
Make your skin crawl
‘Cause words keep bouncing ‘round my
Head just like a pinball
Multiples like when I
Hit multi-bolt unassaultable
Cuffing up a half a half a dozen
That’s the cult involved
Carrier of art from the
Heart with no barriers
Libra-Scorpio, a Scorpio, a Sagittarius
Went from agitated scorpion in a solarium
Anonymous piranhas adopting to new aquarium

Yeah mercy me
OG like Percee P
The beat’s a grip but I might
Drop a verse for free
That’s a gift I got from me, swift
So dinner on me (swift)
Roll it up in a spliff and meet at Club 33
Another K, I don’t play another bat tigon
Touring like a bag of bomb
Tag but I don’t tagalong
Another day what’s a goon to a goblin?
A king to a God, nah a human to an atom bomb
No yellow lines
That’s a road I could travel on
I spit it clear
Ain’t no song that I babble on
I watch for Jake not Jake One the babble-on
And ride the horse into the
Sun without a saddle on
I never fell above hell with the scavengers
Choke a rapper ‘til he
Blue mixed with lavender (sad)
I always try to be up front like collateral
While motherfuckers try to play the
Back and act radical

That I prefer to spit at
The judge and the jury unleash the fury
I splash Jewry from out the
Window of the Jimmy’Z wagon
I’ll flex a muscle on hating ash, bury
Bang the metal like a crash derby
The pen is my blade
To sharpen it I cut flesh to the bone
So chemical my stones is arsenic
The face carver sit on a throne like Arthur
Pulling strings, no archer
Leaving bums out in the cold
Without a North Face Sparker
I take vengeance, rev the race engines
Diamonds dancing on dinner plated pendants
Cut through the yellow ribbon
And made an entrance i played the benches
So many lines my code
Name is great adventures
Yo, Six Flags use your Versace
Shirt as a dish rag
Magic man, I’m digging in my trick bag

Do you know what I have for you?
To enter Club 33
A guest must press the buzzer on an intercom
Concealed by a hidden panel at the doorway
Club 33! Air Horn

Written by:
ALAN MAMAN, MICHAEL TAYLOR PERRETTA, SHANE JASON RALPH

Publisher:
Lyrics © Royalty Network

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