Spiked Punch - ¡MAYDAY!, Murs

Somebody put a little bit of that alcohol

In my little red cup and we can drink it all

Muthafucka, this that heat this that panama

Y’all boys want a single I’m the catalog

I’m like New Year shots and doughnuts in the parkin' lot

And good pot when my music drop

And even if I eva wanted to, I’d neva stop

Hol' up, muthafucka, someone spiked the?

We got Bloods and Crips in the parkin' lot

Somebody talkin' 2 much so he might get shot

This nigga play too much and he say too much

He from whooopty whooop and he from such and such

I’m like what the fuck?

Can we all just chill?

Befo I make a phone call and this shit get real

Matter fact fuck the phone call, this ain’t 06'

I’m bout to knock ya out on some ol' 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 runnin' fo' the ones who feelin' 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 keepin' us a bit harder

The Punch bowl filled with the smiles of a martyr

What ya think ya a part of?

A world full of honors

A planet full of bombers

Or a little bit of 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

Pussy, Prada, whole lotta Colada

Pussy, Prada, whole lotta Colada

Pussy, Prada, whole lotta Colada (spiked punch)

Show me love up in the club

Gotta show a lil love to the ones that I love (spiked punch)

Give me love up in the club

Gotta give a lil love to the ones that I love (spiked punch)

Where the love up in the club?

Gotta get a lil love from the ones that I love (spiked punch)

Give me drugs up in the club

Gotta get a lil buzzed with the ones that I love

And I ain’t bout no second guessin'

Broke the watch on my wrist I ain’t stressin'

Cash on the beat cuz it sound expensive

When I see what I want I ain’t apprehensive

Club full of thugs tryna release tension

And a couple bad?

Tryna give me affection

Murs in the studio givin' us lessons

Over shots of tequila makin' shit infectious

What the fuck is bachata?

What’s up with arata arato, what’s up with my vatos

De Los east?

Los no mismo, I’m not from the east coast

Bout to bail to the store fo' a?

Of Fritos fritas, what’s up with the chicas?

What’s up with yo homegirl?

Esta la Bonita

She lookin' at me crazy, I might get her pregnant

I’m way too turnt so I gotta let Wrek in

And we get extra questions, 'where the hell Plex been?

'

'Are y’all really Tech’s friends?

Can ya get guests in?

'

I don’t need a job so this interview’s over

Came to pop lock till the profit is so sure

Then get the closure feelin' oh so sore

From runnin' round the planet doin' damage with no cure

Give me, give me horns and confetti galore

Grabbin' everythin' in sight and we ready fo' 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 (spiked punch)

Show me love up in the club

Gotta show a lil love to the ones that I love (spiked punch)

Give me love up in the club

Gotta give a lil love to the ones that I love (spiked punch)

Where the love up in the club?

Gotta get a lil love from the ones that I love (spiked punch)

Give me drugs up in the club

Gotta get a lil buzzed with the ones that I love