Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Where's the Party At?, artist - The Notorious B.I.G.. Album song Ghetto in the Sky (Junior M.A.F.I.A. Presents), in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 30.10.2017
Record label: Famous
Song language: English
Where's the Party At? |
I was a terror since the public school era |
Bathroom passes, cuttin classes, squeezing asses |
Smoking blunts was a daily routine |
Since thirteen, a chubby nigga on the scene |
I used to have the tre` duce |
And the duce duce in my bubblegoose |
Now i got the mack in my knapsack |
Loungin’black, smoking sacks up in acts |
And sidekicks with my sidekicks rockin fly kicks |
Honeys want to chat |
But all we wanna know is Where the party at? |
And can i bring my gat? |
If not, I hope I don’t get shot |
But i throw my vest on my chest |
'Cause niggaz is a mess |
It don’t take nothin’but frontin' |
For me to start somethin' |
Buggin’and barkin’at niggaz like i was duck huntin' |
Dumbing out, just me and my crew |
Cause all we wanna do is… |
Party… And bullshit, and… (x9) |
Hugs from the honeys, Pounds from the roughnecks |
Seen my man Sei that I knew from the projects |
Said he had beef, asked me if I had my peice |
Sure do, two .22's in my shoes |
Holler if you need me love i’m in the house |
Roam and strollin’see what the honeys is about |
Moet popping, hoe hopping, ain’t no stopping Big Poppa, I’m a BAD BOY |
Niggaz wanna front, who got your back? |
(BIGGIE!) |
Niggaz wanna flex, who got the gat? |
(BIGGIE!) |
It ain’t hard to tell I’m the east coast overdoser |
Nigga you scared you’re supposed to Nigga I toast ya, put fear in your heart |
Fuck up the party before it even start |
Pissy drunk, off the Henny and stuff |
Or some brand-nubian shit beatin’down punks! |
Bitches in the back looking righteous |
In a tight dress, i think i might just |
Hit her with a little Biggie 101, How to tote a gun |
And have fun with Jamaician rum |
Conversations, blunts in rotation |
My man Big Jacques got the glock in his waist and |
we’re smoking, drinking, got the hooker thinking |
If money smell bad than this nigga Biggie stinking |
Is it my charm? |
I got the hookers eatin out my palm |
She grabbed my arm and said Let’s leave calm |
I’m hittin’skins again |
Rolled up another blunt, bought a Heineken |
Niggaz start to loke out, a kid got choked out |
Blows was thrown and a fucking fight broke out |
[Music stops, indecipherable sounds of people yelling and arguing, |
Biggie breaks it up yelling Yo chill, man, chill!] |
Can’t we just all get along? |
So i can put hickies on her chest like Li’l Shawn |
Get her pissy drunk off of Don Perrignon |
And it’s on, and I’m gone |
that’s that. |
Party… and Bullshit, (Party.) |
and Party… and Bullshit, (Bullshit.) |
and Party… and Bullshit, (Party.) |
and Party… and Bullshit, (Bullshit.) |
and Party… and Bullshit, (Yea… Junior Mafia likes that.) |
and Party… and Bullshit, |
and Party… and Bullshit, (Uptown likes that.) |
and Party… and Bullshit, |
and Party… and Bullshit, (Bad Boy likes that.) |
and Party… and Bullshit, |
and Party… and Bullshit, (Brooklyn Crew likes that.) |
and Party… and Bullshit, |
and Party… and Bullshit, (Third Eye likes that.) |
and Party… and Bullshit, |