lirik lagu hot karl - l.a. song (i hate clubs)
this is for the club, stupid!
[verse 1]
welcome to l.a., the big city of dreams
hot karl’s here to report about this bougie night scene
i’m not being mean, i’m just telling it how it is
the same clubs every week if you in the hollywood biz
and there’s lines around the block where you can’t see the end
lots of f-ckers wearing black, yelling “jen, let me in!
i’m a v.i.p.! when will she ever learn?!
i shouldn’t wait in line, h-ll, i’m kato kaelin’s intern!”
i’m standing right behind them, chilling, laughing
these clubs the best place to see some f-cked-up fashion
like guys in wifebeaters, man, it probably wouldn’t hurt
you’d get in the club quicker if you wore a f-cking shirt
and girls in gucci hats? come on now, please
you look like the r-t-rded sister of alicia keys
and girls in miniskirts where you could see their bare -ss
if i drop change on the floor like john candy in “splash”
and don’t act like you rich, c’mon b-tch, i’m not dumb
unless they raised the prices at forever 21
yo, this sh-t’s a gas, and even though i’m talking sh-t
where else can you see actresses hook up with other chicks?
they’ll say the fire marshall’ll shut it down, but that’s a lie
cause once you’re let in, there’s like twelve people inside
“c’mon and let me in!” “i’m pee wee herman’s little brother!”
“i was on the real world!” “i’m lil’ bow wow’s baby’s mother!”
[hook]
(i can’t deny myself your heaven)
(once the music starts)
(i’m gonna have to dance) i’m gonna have to dance
i have to dance, because i’m in l.a.! [x2]
[verse 2]
gimme a table up on the v.i.p. terrace
sarah had me sitting right next to emmylou harris
yo, i’m gonna hit that sh-t like i was roger maris
then f-ck nicky hilton just to leave paris embarr-ssed
there’s tons of playmates and chicks who do p-rn
and girls who think it’s cool to f-ck jack osbourne
and every playmate’s on her arm, some old tool
who walks up to dj am to request ja rule
so he can seem younger but come off a lot dumber
he buys her tons of drinks and leaves with fake phone numbers
go ahead and buy cristal, but my advice is don’t bother
just take an empty bottle and fill that sh-t with water
it doesn’t make you hotter and you ain’t gotta pay
save the hundred bucks for overpriced valet
and those guys who get autographs to sell on ebay
and dumb model b-tches who pretend they djs
and those kids who sell candy are always hawking sh-t
and if you drunk enough, you might buy some sausages
there’s tons of musicians i’d probably want to fight
but pop stars have bodyguards that look like suge knight
so i sit alone, h-rny, not important
dream about tara reid, or banging natalie portman
but hey, i see celebrities, i don’t really care
i grew up a- hey, is that gwyneth over there?!
[hook]
[verse 3]
a.d., joe sips, and the lounge we all go
but we quit las palmas cause it got too ghetto
yo, and once they get old we find new places
with even longer lines filled with the same faces
it’s a revolving door: get out, come in
l.a. nightlife: ain’t it something?
hey, i’m still in line, i’m done with this fight
i hate these clubs… but i’ll see you tomorrow night
[hook repeats]
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