I Don’t Wanna Party Wit U

> Well, shit, check it out I done found out that's there a fine line between brilliant (uh-huh) And bein' plum loco (oh fo' sho', hell yeah) [DJ Quik] Get back, get forward, get raised, get lowered Do some extreme shit, keep from bein' bored Now it's double up, hoes come a nickel a dozen They get hot and get fucked and don't remember from buzzin' That's why you don't see me, I ain't at the club I'm chillin' with my homies in the city of Hub Because they needin' more than that hoe (than that hoe) the big fat hoe Tryin' to get every ballin' nigga in the saddle (yee-ha!) Lap dance, fat chance, hot pants, you the man Nowadays you can't tell, watch the crotch, it may swell You needs a pap smear; you need to know If you got an STD, some little critters in your trap dear Get on, me and my homies is indivisible And don't floss money, looks better when it's invisible (yes) We get props from Wall Street to why'all street If ya missed it, I stay consistant, we got heat See-P-T style, O-G me style The D-J, Q-U-I-K with no see style In yo' town, don't trip nigga, it goes down And when you see me in all blue, you gon' frown But I'm bridgin the gap, I'm rigid with rap Money or respect bitch, I'd rather have the digits than daps (tell 'em) So give me the haps, do you want the meat or the scraps? (c'mon) Put heat on my naps, and now my hair look sweet on my lap (always) 'Cause it's the same thang tryin' to kill the gang-bang Set examples for the kids, on how to maintain Never be a lame brain; y'all ain't gotta feel the same pain That put a nigga like me on the mainframe Bow down, back up nigga, I'm hot now And don't try to resuscitate me, when I'm shot down Just call my homie Theo on the radio And let him know his little homie Quiksta had to go Because "Gangsta, Gangsta," that's what they yellin' But niggaz do dirt, get caught, and start tellin' (shut up!) Talkin' to you G's with no heart We was throwin' and runnin' from bullets before gangsta rappin was an art Nigga (nigga), so don't test ya bullet-proof vest (nah) 'Cause real niggaz do real things up under stress That's from the C-P-T, Young G with heart, too Oh we still party, but now it's part II And [Hook] I don't want to party wit you... hell naw 'Cause bitch you scary You 20 years old, with 3 kids, 7 tattoos You're bald, but your legs are hairy I don't want to party wit you... hmm, hell naw You need to put some lotion on 'Cause your skin is peelin' around Them bullet wounds on your back You're fat, plus you're abortion-prone [DJ Quik] I'd rather be a young exec, than the puppet on the other end Danglin' by a noose on his neck They can't handle me, cause I'm where the {scandal} be An underground nigga on Arista, now there is the family That I'm a roll wit, take control wit Have a ball, break bread, and share the store wit Even though I'm thirsty for money, in the worst way I ain't go cry if I don't go platinum, on the first day Watch me, get my hustle on with the friendly competition Y'all got papers but I got the latest edition (extra extra) A hundred-thousand dollars a truck, is what I crack And if you ain't got that, keep wishin' (we all about it) And to you bitch-ass niggaz in the maze Comin' at a player with {homosexual} ways Keep lickin' on that other sound And stay north of the 105 Hip Hop heads, cause this is underground Yeah right by the water, can't do right by ya daughter (no) But look at all the shit that I done bought her (hmm?) See lyrics ain't nothin' if the beat ain't crackin' And these beats smackin', that's why the G's keep stackin', nigga [Hook] (I don't want to party wit you).. hell naw 'Cause nigga youse a scuffla Your braids is dingy, your clothes ain't got no creases And your lips look like you sucked a muffler (I don't want to party wit you).. hell naw 'Cause bitch you didn't know me when you was fine as wine and thick Now you're sick from smokin that shit You're broke and plus you're boney [DJ Quik] W-E-S-T, see-O-A-S-T That's where the hydroponic with no seeds be So don't trip when you see me on the TV, or my CD And my eyes are really are-E-D See the {industry} is freak (shh shh shh), pardon me for bein' speaky Snitchin' on y'all that want to jeek me What makes you even try that way? Yeah I might be fly, but I don't fly that way Hmm, even on a gallon of Cisco I could never go disco Dude I ain't from {'Frisco} And to these bitches y'all trippin', we ain't layin' wit y'all Just because we say we want to fuck we playin' wit y'all This is entertainment, we tryin' to make us some change We ain't impressed by what you got up under your Hanes Bitch that's yo' trap, and that's yo' sap Let me spit the cap while she sit in yo' lap homie Don't you know me? Jealous-ass niggaz want to flow me (why) Just because yo' woman want to blow me On the strength I give that hoe a tittie-toy 'Cause I'm the only ugly nigga gettin' away with bein' pretty boy [Hook] (I don't want to party wit you).. hmm, hell naw Now this is how the sporty bounce We stay away from you broke-ass niggaz Always beggin and ain't got a dime on the 40 ounce (I don't want to party wit you).. hmm, hell naw 'Cause hoe you to' back, with that ol' long ass roll And ya stockin smellin like Avon and that horse want his 'fro back (I don't want to party wit you).. hmm, hell naw And nigga I can't stand ya And I ain't got nothin but some advice, A map, a bar of soap, some water and a towel to hand ya (I don't want to party wit you).. hmm, hell naw Now I'ma be real wit it All my fuckin life I ain't never wanted fame But since the shit done came I gotta deal wit it (I don't want to party wit you) Ya know, but I'ma do it like my homie say Check it, I don't give a fuck about fame (fa sho) I'd rather deal with the money, why'all can have the name I'm out Yeah ------------- Lyrics Powered by LyricFind Written By BLAKE, DAVID MARVIN Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.