Somebody put a lil' bit of that alcohol
In my little red cup and we can drink it all
Motherfucker this that heat this that panama
Y'all boys wanna single I'm the catalog
I'm like new year shots
And Doughnuts in the parking lot
And good pot when my music drop
Even If I wanted couldn't ever stop
Hold up my brother someone Spiked the motts
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 phone call and this shit get real
Matter fact fuck the phone call this ain't '06
I'm bout to knock you out on some old school shit
And this a total mix of bi-coastal spit
Murs mayday mayday Murs what a loco fit
I got shade in the distance sun 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 a martyr
What you think a part of
A world full of honors
A planet for the bombers
Or everybody heading out to light up they ganja
I got a crew over yonder
That wanna make world wonders
We here to party all summer
And spike every bowl with the love down under
All I see is pussy prada whole lotta colada
Spiked Punch
Show me love up in the club gotta show a little love to the ones
That I love
Spiked Punch
Give me love up in the club gotta give a little love
To the ones that I love
Spiked Punch
Where the love up in the club gotta get a little love from the ones that I love
Spiked Punch
Give me drugs up in the club gotta get a little buzzed with 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 release tension
A couple bad bitties trying gimme affection
Murs in the studio giving us lessons
Over shots of tequila makin' shit infectious
What the fuck is bachata
What's up with arata
Arata arato
What's up with my vatos
De Los east Los
No mismo
I'm not from the east coast
Bout bail to the store for a bolsa of Fritos
Fritos fritas
What's up with the 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 About to let wreck in
And I get extra questions where the hell Plex been
Are y'all really techs friends
Can you get guests in
I don't need a job so this interviews over
Came to pop lock it 'til the profit is so sure
Then get the closure feeling oh so sore
From running round the planet doing damage with no cure
Gimme gimme horns and confetti galore
Grabbing everything in sight and we ready for more
All I see is pussy prada whole lotta colada
Spiked Punch
Show me love up in the club gotta show a little love to the ones
That I love
Spiked Punch
Give me love up in the club gotta give a little love
To the ones that I love
Spiked Punch
Where the love up in the club gotta get a little love from the ones that I love
Spiked Punch
Give me drugs up in the club gotta get a little buzzed with the ones that I love
Spiked Punch Lyrics performed by Murs are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Spiked Punch Lyrics performed by Murs is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD