I don't dance, I don't jump, I don't front   I do the fuck what I want      Verse 1: Pressure   Pressure tired as fuck lining up   It's getting old, its cold and half the night is up   And you wonder why fights erupt, wisen up   Mr. Door bitch let me inside the club   With his gelled hair, tight pants, silky shirt, man fag   Let me in soon or I'mma piss in your hand bag   What's he gonna do if he gets bashed in the streets   He ain't a bouncer he's just the fashion police   You know whats tragic a girl stops traffic   You let her in stop a bloke, thats a cock block faggot   Get a sweater for my dress code   Would you suggest go matching in sweaters with my best bro's   An entry pass, give me entry fast   Before your head comes acquainted with an empty glass   Clubs and bad pussy are one and the same   After I talk my way in I'm never coming again      Chorus:   I don't dance when the DJ sweats me   I don't jump when the MC begs me   I don't front and there is no comp   I do the fuck what I want      Verse 2: Trials   Mr. Trials, grubby in a club with a nice shirt   Try'na find a honey with some money and a nice purse   I'm on a bender and broke won't stop us   So I hobble to a rich bitch as think as their wallet   Promised the world to this girl that I'd get her heart racing   Sip into sick pints and I'm always sayin' same shit   I need a drink like Mick Jagger needs a hit   I need a drink like Angelina needs to leave her lips   I'm at my peace when I'm pissed, if I get a drink   Tell a chick whatever I got tell her to make her my bank teller   I'm a rank feller in need of Jesus Juice, Jesus Christ would I need to do   Stop the whole girl flattery thing   Buy it better when you walk around with charity tins   Now say I'm fucked from birth, find a girl with purse that bulge and drink   and problem solved      Chorus:   I don't dance when the DJ sweats me   I don't jump when the MC begs me   I don't front and there is no comp   I do the fuck what I want      Verse 3: Hons   Hons the last dude that want to check your tracks   For real what you think I'm about to press it up on ear wax   I doubt that that one thing I hate about cats spitting in ya ear like   its ness in '58   I wanna tell em' get fucked I came hear to get drunk   and throw game like bad losers thats run out of luck   But yet I'm stuck feeling awkward with some cats spittin flavour   in my ear like Craig Mac was in my Walkman   I'd rather shit talkin and at least I'd get a word in   and not some rappers dinner all floating in my bourbon   And when he's spittin I ain't even listening   I came to see the live set not a pop star audition   And I couldn't really care about the shit you write   and if I want my ear chewed then I'd go turn to turn with Tyson   And if your offended I ain't try'na be harsh   I'll hear your shit when it drops so leave me at the fucking bar      Chorus:   I don't dance when the DJ sweats me   I don't jump when the MC begs me   I don't front and there is no comp   I do the fuck what I want      Verse 4: Suffa   Suffa standing at the bar cos I wanna shout, a round   Getting ignored so I had to pull my wallet out   I'm down with the fact that you wanna get some play bro   But you've been serving chicks while I've been standing here like "ey yo"   Don't take all day bro, stop that weak shit   That girl dont want you, that bitch wants a free drink   Now I'm getting shitted out this cat would've bought the bitter out   If I was a broad and walked in with my titties out   Ohh this bar tender thinks he can get these girls tipsy   In hopes of a wristy   On the real son, try make me feel dumb   If I can't buy a fucking drink I'mma steal one   and spit liquor on the bar to set it on fire   Half price drinks is what it said on the flyer   But I can't even get served man, yeah thats chill   Ignore me all night I'mma rip off ya till      Chorus:   I don't dance when the DJ sweats me   I don't jump when the MC begs me   I don't front and there is no comp   I do the fuck what I want      Verse 5: Sesta   Unlce Sesta rolling up already half cut   Bouncer still mad as a mother fucker from last month   I've done fucked up tequila, lethal   Have me stealin and screamin and feeling up a beater vehicle   Name's at the door, chill bro I'm good   "Whats ya name?"   "I'm Debris from the Hilltop Hoods" (hey, yo)   Post myself with the drinks facing a sick shit hanging off my lip   while I'm chasing a bitch   Don't buy her a drink give em' a fly or a wink   See ya at my show next week (oohhh)   Before I touched the whore she bounced when her fat friend   turned around like "he's a funkoar!" (slut!)   Called to the bar now pour all of my shots but 4 bucks is all that I got   Fuck this I'mma bail   cos alot of fans want me to sign their chest but they're males      Chorus:   I don't dance when the DJ sweats me   I don't jump when the MC begs me   I don't front and there is no co,p   I do the fuck what I want      I don't dance, I don't jump, I don't front   I do the fuck what I want      [Vocals/Sample:]   Once I had a love   Kissed him every morning   Then one day my love   Left with no warning...