Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song No More Parties In LA, artist - Kanye West.
Date of issue: 09.06.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
No More Parties In LA |
La di da di da, da |
I like this flavor |
La di da di da, la |
Let me tell you |
I’m out here from a very far away place |
All for a chance to be a star |
Nowhere seems to be too far |
No more parties in LA |
Please, baby, no more parties in LA, uh |
No more parties in LA |
Please, baby, no more parties in LA, uh |
No more (Los Angeles) |
Please (shake that body, party that bod-) |
Please (shake that body, party that body) |
Please (shake that body, party that body) |
Hey baby you forgot your Ray Bans |
And my sheets still orange from your spray tan |
It was more than soft porn for the K-man |
She remember my Sprinter, said «I was in the grape van» |
Uhm, well cutie, I like your bougie booty |
Come Erykah Badu me, well, let’s make a movie |
Hell, you know my repertoire is like a wrestler |
I show you the ropes, connect the dots |
A country girl that love Hollywood |
Mama used to cook red beans and rice |
Now it’s Denny’s, 4 in the morning, spoil your appetite |
Liquor pouring and niggas swarming your section with erection |
Smoke in every direction, middle finger pedestrians |
R&B singers and lesbians, rappers and managers |
Music and iPhone cameras |
This shit unanimous for you, it’s damaging for you, one thing |
That pussy should only be holding exclusive rights to me, I mean |
He flew you in this motherfucker on first class |
Even went out his way so you could check in an extra bag |
Now you wanna divide the yam like it equate the math? |
That shit don’t add up, you’re making them mad as fuck |
She said she came out here to find an A-list rapper |
I said baby, spin that round and say the alphabet backwards |
You’re dealing with malpractice, don’t kill a good nigga’s confidence |
Just cause he a nerd and you don’t know what a condom is |
The head still good though, the head still good though |
Ladies say «Nam Myoho Renge Kyo» |
Make a nigga say big words and act lyrical |
Make me get spiritual |
Make me believe in miracles, Buddhist monks and Cap’n Crunch cereal |
Lord have mercy, thou will not hurt me |
Five buddies all herded up on a Thursday |
Bottle service, head service, I came in first place |
The opportunity, the proper top of breast and booty cheek |
The pop community, I mean these bitches come with union fee |
And I want two of these, moving units through consumer streets |
Then my shoe released, she was kicking in gratuity |
And yeah G, I was all for it |
She said K Lamar, you kind of dumb to be a poet |
I’mma put you on game for the lames that don’t know they’re a rookie |
Instagram is the best way to promote some pussy |
Scary |
Scary |
No more parties in LA |
Please, baby, no more parties in LA |
Friday night tryna make it into the city |
Breakneck speeds, passenger seat something pretty |
Thinking back to how I got here in the first place |
Second class bitches wouldn’t let me on first base |
A backpack nigga with luxury taste buds |
And the Louis Vuitton store, got all of my pay stubs |
Got pussy from beats I did for niggas more famous |
When did I become A list? |
I wasn’t even on a list |
Strippers get invited to where they only get hired |
When I get on my Steve Jobs, somebody gon' get fired |
I was uninspired since Lauryn Hill retired |
And 3 Stacks, man, you preach it to the choir |
Any rumor you heard about me was true and legendary |
I done got Lewinsky and paid secretaries |
For all my niggas with babies by bitches |
That use their kids as meal tickets |
Not knowing the disconnect from the father |
The next generation will be the real victims |
I can’t fault 'em really |
I remember Amber told my boy no matter what happens she ain’t going back to |
Philly |
Back to our regularly scheduled programmin' |
Of weak content of slow jammin' |
But don’t worry, this one’s so jammin' |
You know it, L.A., it’s so jammin' |
I be thinkin' every day |
Mulholland Drive, need to put up some god damn barricades |
I be paranoid every time |
The pressure, the problem ain’t I be drivin' |
The problem is I be textin' |
My psychiatrist got kids that I inspired |
First song they played for me was 'bout their friend that just died |
Textin' and drivin' down Mulholland Drive |
That’s why I’d rather take the 405 |
I be worried 'bout my daughter, I be worried 'bout Kim |
But Saint is baby Ye, I ain’t worried 'bout him |
I had my life threatened by best friends who had selfish intents |
What I’m supposed to do? |
Ride around with a bulletproof car and some tints? |
Every agent I know know I hate agents |
I’m too black, I’m too vocal, I’m too flagrant |
Something smellin' like shit, that’s the new fragrance |
It’s just me, I do it my way, bitch |
Some days I’m in my Yeezys, some days I’m in my Vans |
If I knew y’all made plans I wouldn’t have popped the Xans |
I know some fans who thought I wouldn’t rap like this again |
But the writer’s block is over, emcees cancel your plans |
I’m 38 years old, a 8 year old with rich nigga problems |
Tell my wife that I hate the Rolls so I ain’t never drive it |
It took 6 months to take the Maybach all matted out |
And my assistant crashed as soon as they backed it out |
God damn, got a bald fade, I might slam |
Pink fur, got Nori dressing like Cam, thank God for me |
Whole family gettin' money, thank God for E! |
I love rockin' jewelry, a whole neck full |
Bitches say he funny and disrespectful |
I feel like Pablo when I’m workin' on my shoes |
I feel like Pablo when I see me on the news |
I feel like Pablo when I’m workin' on my house |
Tell 'em party’s in here, we don’t need to go out |
We need the turbo thots, high speed, turbo thots |
Drop-dro-dro-dro-drop it like Robocop |
She brace herself and hold my stomach, good dick’ll do that |
She keep pushin' me back, good dick’ll do that |
She push me back when the dick go too deep |
This good dick’ll put your ass to sleep |
Get money, money, money, money |
Big, big money, money, money, money |
And as far as real friends, tell my cousins I love 'em |
Even the one that stole the laptop, you dirty motherfucker |
I just keep on lovin' you, baby |
And there’s no one else I know who can take your place |
Please, no more parties in LA |
Please, baby, no more parties in LA, uh |
No more parties in LA |
Please, baby, no more parties in LA, uh |
No more parties in LA |
Please, baby, no more parties in LA, uh |
No more (Los Angeles) |
I’m out here from a very far away place |
All for a chance to be a star |
Nowhere seems to be too far |
SWISH |