Party Crashers Songtext
von Marco Polo & Torae
Party Crashers Songtext
Yeah, we gon crash the party
Niggas don′t know? You better ask somebody
If I ain't on the list, you should add me probably
Shit ain′t no joke, we ain't laughin hardly
Yeah, we up in this bitch
Lotta niggas in here look like they got chips
Lotta niggas in here lookin like they rich
They dressin like Pharrel but they ain't got the Clips(e)
Nope, so they sittin to get got
That billionaire boys club shit is type hot
You know about the BBC in this spot?
Them boys′ll bash your chest, your chain go pop
Yup, shit′ll get that real
These niggas'll break fast to get that meal
Ain′t no need to scrap, but they gets that steel
To get that grill, cause shit's that trill
Nah nigga, don′t get worried
But soft niggas that talk tough is unheard
The sidetalk is sidewalk right on the curb
Slap the shit out a nigga and call him young bird
Word, but this spot is type packed
They throwin Patron shots down back to back
My niggas is in here strapped gat for gat
So all y'all niggas with plaques gon get capped
Jacked, that′s relieved of your cash
It's bare-skinded, no gloves and no mask
So you could lose your life or lose that stash
This industry party's officially been crashed
The DJ told ′em put they hands up
That′s when you noticed that me and my niggas stand up
If everybody oblige it won't be that tough
But if you act up you get click-clacked up
Everybody give they jewels and cash up
From rap niggas to rock, this is a mash-up
Niggas look mad shook for gettin they shit took
I put it on YouTube, make it a good look
VIP got niggas cigar smokin
I′m just playin the side, the god's scopin
Till I hop over the counter and start locin
Now the cash register and the bar′s open
News folks say blame the recession
But I blame BET, it's no question
Ballin-ass videos′ll have a cat stressin
Then show American Gangster, givin 'em lessons
How to do it, now nigga, let's get to it
Put everything in the bag and let′s move it
If you got somethin to prove, well then prove it
But I know funeral homes with mad room, kid
Don′t do it, really, there's no purpose
You can get all this back, just keep workin
But if you get clapped your back′ll stop workin
Nah, it's not worth the cat that I′m murkin
(Industry party bumrusher) --] Method Man
Niggas don′t know? You better ask somebody
If I ain't on the list, you should add me probably
Shit ain′t no joke, we ain't laughin hardly
Yeah, we up in this bitch
Lotta niggas in here look like they got chips
Lotta niggas in here lookin like they rich
They dressin like Pharrel but they ain't got the Clips(e)
Nope, so they sittin to get got
That billionaire boys club shit is type hot
You know about the BBC in this spot?
Them boys′ll bash your chest, your chain go pop
Yup, shit′ll get that real
These niggas'll break fast to get that meal
Ain′t no need to scrap, but they gets that steel
To get that grill, cause shit's that trill
Nah nigga, don′t get worried
But soft niggas that talk tough is unheard
The sidetalk is sidewalk right on the curb
Slap the shit out a nigga and call him young bird
Word, but this spot is type packed
They throwin Patron shots down back to back
My niggas is in here strapped gat for gat
So all y'all niggas with plaques gon get capped
Jacked, that′s relieved of your cash
It's bare-skinded, no gloves and no mask
So you could lose your life or lose that stash
This industry party's officially been crashed
The DJ told ′em put they hands up
That′s when you noticed that me and my niggas stand up
If everybody oblige it won't be that tough
But if you act up you get click-clacked up
Everybody give they jewels and cash up
From rap niggas to rock, this is a mash-up
Niggas look mad shook for gettin they shit took
I put it on YouTube, make it a good look
VIP got niggas cigar smokin
I′m just playin the side, the god's scopin
Till I hop over the counter and start locin
Now the cash register and the bar′s open
News folks say blame the recession
But I blame BET, it's no question
Ballin-ass videos′ll have a cat stressin
Then show American Gangster, givin 'em lessons
How to do it, now nigga, let's get to it
Put everything in the bag and let′s move it
If you got somethin to prove, well then prove it
But I know funeral homes with mad room, kid
Don′t do it, really, there's no purpose
You can get all this back, just keep workin
But if you get clapped your back′ll stop workin
Nah, it's not worth the cat that I′m murkin
(Industry party bumrusher) --] Method Man
Writer(s): Torae Liston Carr, Marco P. Bruno Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
