Spiked Punch Lyrics - ¡mursday! - Mayday

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 

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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 

Photos 

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