Club 33

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Madchild

Shane Bunting (born October 21, 1975), better known by his stage name Madchild, is a Canadian rapper. He is part of the Vancouver-based hip hop group Swollen Members. In 2009, he released a solo EP entitled The Madchild EP. In 2012, he released his first album, titled Dope Sick followed by Lawn Mower Man in 2013 and Silver Tongue Devil in 2015. In 1993, he was named a member of the legendary 'Rock Steady Crew'. The Darkest Hour was released in 2017. more »

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Everyone wants to go no one can get in
There’s this thing called Club 33
It’s a really big deal
You can’t get in no matter what
The only way to go there is
If you pay this ridiculous fee
Where, I mean it’s a thousand dollars
Like, like a hundred years and
All this fucking shit
And eventually you gain access, 2k to get in

Ay
I’m a caterpillar turning into a butterfly
Crazy baby with the butter
Knife singing lullabies
Still holding on, hanging tough
Writing all the time hanging on like a koala
Bear that’s overqualified
About to go postal
Kill everyone like Columbine
Almost lost my fucking mind had
To fall in line
I’m a member of a secret society
But frequently I’m still a freak with anxiety
Misguided angel just stays home
‘Cause good MCs are hard to
Find like pagers and payphones
Mind’s a lethal environment
I’ve got tunnel vision
Now that the sun has risen
I have broken out of prison
King Kong, rhyme spine tingling
Make your skin crawl
‘Cause words keep bouncing ‘round my
Head just like a pinball
Multiples like when I
Hit multi-bolt unassaultable
Cuffing up a half a half a dozen
That’s the cult involved
Carrier of art from the
Heart with no barriers
Libra-Scorpio, a Scorpio, a Sagittarius
Went from agitated scorpion in a solarium
Anonymous piranhas adopting to new aquarium

Yeah mercy me
OG like Percee P
The beat’s a grip but I might
Drop a verse for free
That’s a gift I got from me, swift
So dinner on me (swift)
Roll it up in a spliff and meet at Club 33
Another K, I don’t play another bat tigon
Touring like a bag of bomb
Tag but I don’t tagalong
Another day what’s a goon to a goblin?
A king to a God, nah a human to an atom bomb
No yellow lines
That’s a road I could travel on
I spit it clear
Ain’t no song that I babble on
I watch for Jake not Jake One the babble-on
And ride the horse into the
Sun without a saddle on
I never fell above hell with the scavengers
Choke a rapper ‘til he
Blue mixed with lavender (sad)
I always try to be up front like collateral
While motherfuckers try to play the
Back and act radical

That I prefer to spit at
The judge and the jury unleash the fury
I splash Jewry from out the
Window of the Jimmy’Z wagon
I’ll flex a muscle on hating ash, bury
Bang the metal like a crash derby
The pen is my blade
To sharpen it I cut flesh to the bone
So chemical my stones is arsenic
The face carver sit on a throne like Arthur
Pulling strings, no archer
Leaving bums out in the cold
Without a North Face Sparker
I take vengeance, rev the race engines
Diamonds dancing on dinner plated pendants
Cut through the yellow ribbon
And made an entrance i played the benches
So many lines my code
Name is great adventures
Yo, Six Flags use your Versace
Shirt as a dish rag
Magic man, I’m digging in my trick bag

Do you know what I have for you?
To enter Club 33
A guest must press the buzzer on an intercom
Concealed by a hidden panel at the doorway
Club 33! Air Horn

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