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Here we go, here we go |
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Here we go, here we go |
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I was a terror since the public school era |
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Bathroom passes, cuttin' classes, squeezing asses |
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Smoking blunts was a daily routine |
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Since thirteen, a chubby nigga on the scene |
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I used to have the tres duce |
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And the duce, duce in my bubble goose |
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Now I got the mac in my knapsack |
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Loungin' black, smoking sacks up in acts |
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And sidekicks with my sidekicks rockin' fly kicks |
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Honeys want to chat |
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But all we wanna know is, where the party at? |
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And can I bring my gat? If not, I hope I don't get shot |
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But I throw my vest on my chest 'cause niggaz is a mess |
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It don't take nothin' but frontin' for me to start somethin' |
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Buggin' and buckin' at niggaz like I was duck huntin' |
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Dumbing out, just me and my crew |
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'Cause all we wanna do is |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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And party and bullshit and |
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Hugs from the honeys, pounds from the roughnecks |
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Seen my man Spade that I knew from the projects |
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Said he had beef, asked me if I had my piece |
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Sure do, two twenty two's in my shoes |
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Holler if you need me love, I'm in the house |
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Roam and strollin' see what the honeys is about |
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Moet popping, hoe hopping |
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Ain't no stopping Big Poppa, I'm a bad boy |
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Niggaz wanna front, who got your back? |
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(Biggie) |
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Niggaz wanna flex, who got the gat? |
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(Biggie) |
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It ain't hard to tell I'm the east coast overdose |
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So nigga you scared you're supposed to |
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Nigga, I told ya, put fear in your heart |
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Fuck up the party before it even start |
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Pissy drunk, off the Henny and stuff |
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Or some brand-nubian shit beatin' down punks |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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And party and bullshit and |
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Bitches in the back looking righteous |
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In a tight dress |
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I think I might just hit her with a little Biggie 101 |
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How to tote a gun and have fun with Jamaican rum |
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Conversations, blunts in rotation |
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My man Big Jacques got the glock in his waist |
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And we're smoking, drinking, got the hooker thinking |
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If money smell bad than this nigga Biggie stinking |
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Is it my charm? I got the hookers eatin' out my palm |
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She grabbed my arm and said, "Let's leave calm" |
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I'm hittin' skins again, rolled up another blunt, bought a Heineken |
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Niggaz start to loke out, a kid got choked out |
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Blows was thrown and a fucking fight broke out |
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Can't we just all get along? |
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So I can put hickies on her chest like Li'l Shawn |
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Get her pissy drunk off the Dom Perrignon |
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And it's on and I'm gone, that's that |
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Party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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(Junior Mafia likes that) |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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(Uptown likes that) |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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(Bad Boy likes that) |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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(Brooklyn Crew likes that) |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
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(Third Eye likes that) |
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And party and bullshit and party and bullshit |
