"In da Club" Intro

Go, go, go, go
Go, go, go, shawty
It’s your birthday
We gonna party like it’s your birthday
We gonna sip Bacardi like it’s your birthday
And you know we don’t give a fuck ’cause that’s your birthday!

Proceed, proceed, proceed, proceed

Proceed, proceed, proceed, enchantress

It is your natal day

—That is, we are going to celebrate as if it’s your natal day!

We are going to imbibe Bacardi-brand rum as if it’s your natal day!

And I’m sure you’re aware we do not give one act of copulation

Because such is proper behavior when celebrating one’s natal day!

"In da Club" Chorus

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look, mami, I got the X if you’re into taking drugs
I’m into having sex, I ain’t into making love
So come give me a hug if you’re into to getting rubbed

I may be found in the nightery with a bottle full of champagne

Understand, salty nymph, I have the Methylenedioxymethamphetamine pills if you enjoy taking narcotics

I enjoy having sex in those terms alone—not so dearly do I consider love-making!

So please embrace me—if you wish to be fondled bodily!

"In da Club" Verse 1

When I pull up out front, you see the Benz on dubs
When I roll with 20 deep, it’s 20 knives in the club
Niggas heard I fuck with Dre, now they wanna show me love
When you sell like Eminem, man, the hoes, they wanna fuck

When I arrive at the entrance to the dancehall,

You’re certain to see my Mercedes-Benz automobile with its twenty-inch wheel rims.

When I enter the dancehall with twenty fellows,

Each will be carrying a bladed weapon.

African-American men of my peerage heard I am compatriots

With hip hop producer Andre “Dr. Dre” Young

—Now those same men want to befriend me!

When one sells record albums like hip hop emcee Marshall “Eminem” Mathers

All the fancy women want to intercourse!

But homie, ain’t nothing changed: hoes down, Gs up
I see Xzibit in the cut—hey nigga, roll that weed up
If you watch how I move, you mistake me for a playa or pimp
Been hit with a few shells but I don’t walk with a limp (I’m all right)

Although, friend, nothing has changed—floozies stand down; gangsters, stand up.

I see hip hop emcee Alvin “Xzibit” Joiner in his private refuge;

Go on then, friend—prepare a marijuana cigarette!

If you watch my body movements you’re certain to mistake me for a lothario or whoremonger.

Yes, I have been shot once or twice, but I do not let it affect my gait (I am unharmed!).

In the hood, in L.A., they saying, “50, you hot”
They like me; I want them to love me like they love Pac
But holla in New York; them niggas’ll tell you I’m loco
And the plan is to put the rap game in a chokehold

In the slums, in Los Angeles, they are saying, “Fifty, you are desirable.”

They enjoy my presence;

I want them to enjoy it on the level they enjoy deceased hip hop emcee Tupac Shakur.

But please call out to me if you reside in New York City

The African-American men who live there will eagerly tell of my psychological instability.

And my plan, through all of this, is to control the hip hop music market

I’m fully focused, man, my money on my mind

Got a mill out the deal and I’m still on the grind
Now shawty said she feeling my style, she feeling my flow
Her girlfriend wanna get bi and they ready to go (Okay!)

I’m wholly focused, sir; I practice canny budgeting.

I earned one million dollars from my contract, but I still enjoy patronizing dancehalls.

An attractive young woman told me she’s finds my style satisfying

And also appreciates the method with which I rap.

This woman’s girlfriend wishes to engage in a bisexual episode,

And both are interested right now! (I concur!)

"In da Club" Verse 2

My flow, my show brought me the dough
That bought me all my fancy things
My crib, my cars, my pools, my jewels
Look, nigga, I done came up and I ain’t changed

My cadence, my concerts—both earned me the substantial profits

Which I used to purchase all my expensive possessions.

My home, my automobiles, my swimming pools, my jewels...

Understand, friend: I have risen from anonymity while remaining fundamentally unchanged.

And you should love it, way more than you hate it
Nigga, you mad? I thought that you’d be happy I made it
I’m that cat by the bar toasting to the good life
You that faggot-ass nigga trying to pull me back, right?

And so you should love my popularity, far more than you hate said popularity.

African-American colleague, are you angry?

Personally, I thought you would have been pleased I found success.

I’m that nifty man at the bar counter toasting to the lifestyle of a spendthrift.

You’re that homosexually-assèd assailant trying to keep me from such decadence, correct?

When my joint get to pumpin’ in the club, it’s on
I wink my eye at your bitch, if she smiles, she’s gone
If the roof on fire, let the motherfucker burn
If you talking about money, homie, I ain’t concerned

When my song is played at the dancehall, get ready, all!

When I wink at your ladyfriend, if she smiles at me, she’s mine.

If the roof of the establishment is ablaze, simply let the mother-fornicator burn.

If you’re discussing money, associate, I am uninterested, (as I worry not about the issue)!

I’m a tell you what Banks told me: “Cuz, go ’head; switch the style up”
If the niggas hate then let ’em hate
And watch the money pile up
Or we go upside their head with a bottle of bub
They know where we fucking be

I shall tell you what hip hop emcee Christopher “Lloyd Banks” Lloyd told me:

“Cousin, feel free to change your cadence as you wish to.”

If naysayers are going to naysay, let them do so!

I shall watch my income continue to come in.

Or, an alternative option, we could smash our champagne bottles

Against the naysayers’ very heads.

They’re aware of where we are!