| Haha, yeah
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| Tony Stark, nigga
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| I ain’t going nowhere (Yeah)
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| Y’all feel me?
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| We about to finish this al', dawg (Uh-huh)
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| Tell 'em, Tone Tone (It's the beginning)
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| Yo, yo, yo
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| Yo
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| The old lady said the shooter was 5'6″
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| And she don’t know how he got away with five of them bricks
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| Across the street, a group of men held nine sticks
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| Those is choppers being sprayed, and all of em' missed, uh
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| Lil' bro got away with it
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| He promised me four of them joints if I stayed with him, uh
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| What the fuck y’all think?
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| I wasn’t born with a slit between my legs with a hole that’s pink?
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| Nah, I’m a gangster, besides getting paper
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| I move my pawns, fuck around and get rook
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| Besides that, any jux session
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| Deny me for any stones in your skin, you get cooked
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| Haha, blood spillin' like lava
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| Face on the hot concrete, no agua
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| Nasty killer with horror
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| You wasn’t even the main entree, how’s that for a starter?
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| (Party over here)
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| I’m talking like it’s about to get deadly, we stay getting ready
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| (Party over here)
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| Staten Island stay stylin', boy, turn off the lights like Teddy
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| (Party over here)
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| More paper, hoes that’s swallowing 'scato on the late tip
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| (Party over here)
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| Don’t you dare run, nigga, just hand over the goods, or we’ll take it
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| Bottle after bottle, Remy dark, Goose, Moscato
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| Threw the club into gear full throttle
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| Players on one side, killers on the other
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| Hoes in the middle, plus it’s jam-packed, flooded
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| Sweating through my silk, real life, I might tuck it
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| Mad hoes, got 'em on the string like a puppet
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| Party over here, lil' niggas stepped on my kicks without sayin' pardon over here
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| Two of my goons seen it, followed him over there
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| Came back with whatever that fuckboy had in his ear
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| Neck, chest, wrists, he couldn’t persevere
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| Pat Riley on his neck, gave up the jewels like, «Here»
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| Nickel-plated bulldogs, 12-inch Rugers and long leathers
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| To pluck any bird nigga feather
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| Staten Island, we get ours regardless
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| Don’t forget, we do the pressin', y’all just press charges
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| (Party over here)
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| I’m talking like it’s about to get deadly, we stay getting ready
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| (Party over here)
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| Staten Island stay stylin', boy, turn off the lights like Teddy
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| (Party over here)
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| More paper, hoes that’s swallowing 'scato on the late tip
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| (Party over here)
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| Don’t you dare run, nigga, just hand over the goods, or we’ll take it |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Party Over Here , by - Ghostface Killah. Song from the album Ghostface Killahs, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп