| Momma
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| I know you said that you wanted a record you could listen to
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| With no cussing and shit
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| I tried
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| But I still gotta do this
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| Yo
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| Jingle jingle
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| We’ve got the lingo
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| With so much heat, it’s hard for us to pick the first single
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| It don’t matter cuz I’m underground anyway
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| Rich balling, bitch call and fly any day
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| You dirty niggas y’all too whack to dance
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| Y’all need to ease up off that now before y’all splint y’all pants
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| And leave that up to my niggas, young fly niggas
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| Getting down, do or die niggas, don’t try niggas
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| I changed my mind I don’t, want your bitch
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| Cause sorry ass women just, don’t get rich
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| You could keep her
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| I’d rather have a fifi bag because it’s cheaper
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| You can’t come up for air now
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| I gets deeper
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| And my hold is so cold, it’s a sleeper
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| So pass the reefer
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| And to you false balling niggas just grab your crotches
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| But if you paid nigga pat your pockets
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| And for sure
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| You’ve got yours
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| I’ve got mine’s and we’re balling
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| So call up everybody
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| Let’s pitch in ona party for sure
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| Alright
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| Somebody bring the potato salad
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| Let’s take a ballot
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| On who gonna invite the hoes that make the party valid
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| Cuz we don’t need a whole crib full of dudes again
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| And here come the police with them big black boots again
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| Kicking niggas out
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| Hand cuffing and stuffing a gang of Jackie’s chicken in they mouth
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| Anton & Sean pitching a fit
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| Cuz somebody rolled her bud in a henny blunt and won’t pass the shit
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| Who keeps turning the lights on?
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| Why the music keep skipping?
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| And why these dirty khaki niggas tripping?
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| I don’t know I’m Quik and I’m still delighted
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| 500 dollars worth of white star
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| About to hide it
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| Cuz y’all ain’t drinking mine up
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| You better drink that E&J and Paul Masson and the rest of that wine up
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| You party haters need to stop it
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| I think we really about to pat your pockets
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| Hey baby
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| My girlfriend left me today
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| So which one of you old raggedy ass bitches wanna come in here and play?
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| That’s what my homie told and try to cop the cancun
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| Then I caught him in there hunching in my downstairs bathroom
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| And in the kitchen and up in there on the dancefloor
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| By the big screen t.v. |
| where your pants go?
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| Some of you niggas I swear
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| I try to throw y’all raggedy asses' a party
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| And y’all don’t even care
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| Cigarette burns in my plush
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| Empty beer bottles in the brush
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| And my bitch acting like a lush
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| Boy what else could go wrong?
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| Somebody kick the extension cord out
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| Move!
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| Y’all gotta be some of the clumsiest muthafuckas
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| To the sounds, now it’s on
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| Y’all done fucked up
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| Get out, get on
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| Speed up nigga
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| Get up, take your weed on
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| Yea nigga, the drunk nigga said it
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| Your pockets, that’s where I’m heading
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| Kick up |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pitch In On A Party , by - DJ Quik. Song from the album Greatest Hits: Live At The House Of Blues, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп