Back of the Club

[Intro]
Bottle in the air
Wrist on flood
Shorty too thick
Got me feelin like a thug (yeah)
[Verse 1]
She in that red dress
Tat on the hip
Talk with her eyes
Biting her lip
Whisper in my ear
“Boy, you talk big”
Hand on her waist
She grabbin my zip
Backdoor key
We erase that line
Out of that crowd
Now she all mine
Hands on the wall
Make her arch that spine
She don’t wanna dance
She just want my time (yeah)
[Chorus]
In the back of the club, she bad-bad (bad)
Hands on my chest, make it clap-clap (clap)
She say “slow down,” then she snap back (woah)
We ain’t goin home, we past that, past that
Back of the club, where the lights fade
Her nails on my skin like a switchblade
She ride on the king, where the throne at
In the back of the club, I own that (yeah)
[Verse 2]
VIP wristband
But we in the dark
Her perfume loud
Got me losin heart
Tongue so slick
She don’t miss her mark
Moanin real low
Over all that spark
Her friend text “where you at?”
She don’t even check it
Phone on mute
She just want this blessing
Jeans halfway
She don’t need no question
Saying my name
Like a little confession (oh)
[Chorus]
In the back of the club, she bad-bad (bad)
Hands on my chest, make it clap-clap (clap)
She say “slow down,” then she snap back (snap back)
We ain’t goin home, we past that, past that
Back of the club, where the lights fade
Her nails on my skin like a switchblade
She ride on the king, where the throne at
In the back of the club, I own that (yeah, I own that)

rap, Dark, booming club trap with heavy 808s and sharp hi-hats; male vocals, cocky and close-mic’d. Minimal, menacing piano loop in the verses, bass swells under pre-chorus. Hook explodes with layered chant vocals and wide stereo ad-libs; second half adds distorted vocal chops and riser for a final peak., hip hop