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Pitch In OnA Party

Momma

I know you said that you wanted a record you could listen to

With no cussing and shit

I tried

But I still gotta do this

Yo

Jingle jingle

We've go the lingo

With so much heat it's hard for us to pick the first single

It don't matter 'cause I'm underground anyway

Rich balling, bitch call and fly any day

You dirty niggas why'all too whack to dance

Why'all need to ease up off that now before why'all splint why'all pants

And leave that up to my niggas, young fly niggas

Getting down you and I niggas don't try niggas

I changed my mind I don't want your bitch

'Cause sorry ass women just don't get rich

You could keep her

I'd rather have a fifi bag because it's cheaper

You can't come up for NL

I gets deeper

And my hold is so cold, it's a sleeper

So pass the reefer

And to you false balling niggas just grab your crotches

But if you paid nigga pat your pockets

[Chorus: Repeat 2X]

And for sure

You've got yours

I've got mine's and we're balling

So call up everybody

Let's pitch in on a party for sure

Alright

Somebody play the potato

Let's take a ballad

On who gonna invite the hoes that make the party valid

'Cause we don't need a whole crib full of dudes again

And here come the police with them big black boots again

Kicking niggas out

Hand cuffing and stuffing they banging jacky chicken in they mouth

And time to shine pitching a fit

'Cause somebody rolled her bud in a heeny blunt and won't pass the shit

Who keeps turning the lights on?

Why the music keep skipping?

And why these dirty khaki niggas tripping?

I don't know I'm Quik and I'm still delighted

Five hundred dollars worth of white star

About to hide it

'Cause why'all ain't drinking mine up

You better drink that Anj and Palmason and the rest of that wine up

You party haters need to stop it

I think we really about to pat your pockets

[Chorus:]

Hey baby

My girlfriend left me today

So which one of you old ragedy ass bitches want to come in here and play?

That's what my homie told and try to cop the Cancun

Then I caught him in there hunching in my downstairs bathroom

And in the kitchen and up in there on the dance floor

By the big screen t.v. where your pants go?

Some of you niggas I swear

I try to throw why'all a ragedy ass party

And why'all don't even care

Cigarette burns in my plush

Empty beer bottles in the brush

And my bitch acting like a lush

Boy what else could go wrong?

Somebody kick the extension cord out

Move!

Why'all gotta be some of the clumsiest muthafuckas

To the sounds, now some

Why'all done fucked up

Get out, get on

Speed up nigga

Get up, take your weed on

Ya nigga, the drunk nigga said it

Your pockets, that's where I'm sending

K go

[Chorus:] (Repeat 2X)

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written by BLAKE, DAVID MARVIN

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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