Lyrics Where The Party At? - E-40

Where The Party At?

Forget it man, I can’t lie
I’m drunk as a skunk but I’m nothin' fly
I shoots the game, the gift of spit
The gift of gab, boy, the gift is ripped
Good with the skill that makes ya feel it
Those that don’t wanna feel it need to kill it
Knows that I can gigiddy go when it’s time to
Get on the M-I-C-R-O-
P-H-O-N-E It’s me the hustler E-40
With them brandy seperators as if it was funky
A brother like me don’t hang around no suckers that be faulty
I be puttin' the group up in the boot
Be puttin' the peas up in the pod
Left the cookies in the jar, now I’m a rap star
The rapologist, I pull a 40 out of my ball cap
Then I flush it down my esophagus
Cause partner ain’t never been no punk in this
I’m so serious brother, I got meals, wheels
And about seven thousand dollars worth of bills
Givin' up deals, hills let em' go for a lil' bit a nothin'
As I showcase my skills for rid-neal
There’s a party over here, a party over there
A party everywhere… put ya hands up
There’s a party over here, a party over there
A party everywhere
Pullin' up in the club about eleven
I place my feet and hit the beat and kept the engine revvin'
I got a lil' doja that I’m finna' to break down
Roll em' up in a zag, lick em' stick em' and clown
I’m fully dig with a fit, my game is on hit
I got tenders on my tip cause I’m livin' with this
Goin tight with the knack, and puttin' in scratch
Brothas better have a tight grip on they stuff, man, cause I’m bout to snatch
Ya botch and she loves it she’ll be mobbin' up in the Cutlass
Puffin' on some of this chronic while I’m gettin' her straight pantyless
What about the drought season, they be lookin' for a reason
It’s like Thanksgiving without the feastin'
Extra manish how I’m livin' and my name is groupie
It’s Mr. 30−30 givin' up game to all you hoochies
Britches I be sportin' stone cold boots and sometimes Jordans
Saggin' and grabbin' my little pecker
Talkin' about sick on my gold better
I remember when crevice was hard to come by back in the days before I was in
junior high
All they wanted to do is kiss and let me play with they vagina
I got my freshen up, I put on my chucks, hopin' some down with pluck
The finest botch on the playground, the one with the big ass butt
40 I love you, I miss you, I need you
In retrospect to who?
Batch come anew, batch come anew
Cause we makes like thugs
Get twisted in the parking lot before we go up in the clubs
Hugs and kisses, gotta make sure we got our gloves
Hugs and kisses, E-40, Kaveo and Young Mugz
Hugs and kisses, straight to the bar no time to waste
Kickin' em' back while they take the place
Order me a shot of that nuclear waste
Thinkin' they about to beat my face
Oh no, I’m nothin' but a professional
Oh no, we’re nothin' but professionals
Hoochies all in my face with some of that dope water
Brothers already pervin off some of that swamp water
So I’mma make a toast to the most
Mobbish lookin' brothers in the citay midnay
Cause brothers gotta get the shit that’s really gidnay
Batches on our jock, batches on our jock
We might have to throw thangs to these brothas
That’s a Captain Save a botch
They wanna be like the big boys and sport big boots
They wanna be like the big boys and sport triple X suits
I got love for D-Boys cause D-Boys got love from me
I got love for D-Boys cause D-Boys got love from me
I got love for D-Boys cause D-Boys got love from me
I got love for D-Boys cause D-Boys got love from me
We in this baby boy pervin'
E-40 N' the Mossie
And I’m still down with The C-L-I-C-K
Comin' yo way in the 94'
The 95', it don’t stop boy ain’t no jive
Sell the rest of them tapes boy
Where the deposit at, where mine at
Oh for real, I’m out
Where’s the party at… Where's the party at
Where’s the party at, where’s the party at, where’s the party at