Top Songs By Hollywood Undead
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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Hollywood Undead
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Deuce
Composer
J-Dog
Composer
Johnny 3 Tears
Composer
Charlie Scene
Composer
Lyrics
Tear it up, tear it up, yeah
Tear it up, tear it up, yeah
Tear it up, tear it up, yeah
Here we go now, here we go
So don't make me tear it up
You know I don't give a fuck
And I ain't here to shake things up
But I got my hand on my gun
So don't make me tear it up
You know I don't give a fuck
And I ain't here to shake things up
But I got my hand on my gun
I beat the pussy up like Ying Yang
Put it right thurr like Ching-Chang, you know I make our shit bang
You know I don't give a motherfuck about your first name
I wanna lock that ass like a motherfucking chain-gang
Tear it up, stand up and throw it up
And tear up the floor like you don't give a fuck
I know you got heels on, I know what you're feeling
They caught us riding dirtier and they're bumping Chamillion
I got a bounty on my head just for repping Undead
Because I'm freaking on your sister and I'm grinding her friend
And what the fuck you think?
I'm trying to make 'em sweat like a motherfucking track meet
J-D-O-G, I got your girl on the leash
I got her fiending and the whole crowd's screaming
Shake it like a what? Fuck you
HU crew, we don't give a fuck, what? What?
So don't make me tear it up
You know I don't give a fuck
And I ain't here to shake things up
But I got my hand on my gun
So don't make me tear it up
You know I don't give a fuck
And I ain't here to shake things up
But I got my hand on my gun
Shake it like a what? Fuck you
Shake it like a what? Fuck you
Shake it like a what? Fuck you
Shake it like a what? Fuck you
No, I ain't a gangsta, don't pack a pistol
Motherfuckers keep running mouth, motherfuckers catch a fistful
Guided like a missile from two bottles of Jack
That I drank in the back of an '88 Cadillac
It's Johnny 3, Johnny sees what Johnny needs
Johnny breathes weed, still, Johnny don't see anything
Johnny buys drink, Johnny winks and Johnny thinks
Johnny circles dance floor like roller rink
Jump up, down; down in the H-Town, get down
To the sound that's bound to make the motherfucking crowd loud
Wanna see you move, yeah, move to the music
Wanna see you booze, yeah, booze till you puke it
See bitch, grab ass, get smacked to the mat
Get up, slap back, get thrown out the back
But you're back through the backdoor, back to the dance floor
Gotta, gotta get mine; gotta, gotta get more
So don't make me tear it up
You know I don't give a fuck
And I ain't here to shake things up
But I got my hand on my gun
So don't make me tear it up
You know I don't give a fuck
And I ain't here to shake things up
But I got my hand on my gun
Hell yeah, motherfucker, turn it up
Turn it up, Focus Three; fuck you, Jeff Peters
Fuck you, Mike Renault, gangstas up in this bitch
You gotta ride to die, fuck yeah
Writer(s): Aron Erlichman, Jorel Decker, George Arthur Ragan, Jordon Kristopher Terrell
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