Pitch In On A Party - DJ Quik

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 got the lingo

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

It don’t matter cuz I’m underground anyway

Rich balling, bitch call and fly any day

You dirty niggas y’all too whack to dance

Y’all need to ease up off that now before y’all splint y’all pants

And leave that up to my niggas, young fly niggas

Getting down, do or die 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 air now

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

And for sure

You’ve got yours

I’ve got mine’s and we’re balling

So call up everybody

Let’s pitch in ona party for sure

Alright

Somebody bring the potato salad

Let’s take a ballot

On who gonna invite the hoes that make the party valid

Cuz 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 a gang of Jackie’s chicken in they mouth

Anton & Sean pitching a fit

Cuz somebody rolled her bud in a henny 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

500 dollars worth of white star

About to hide it

Cuz y’all ain’t drinking mine up

You better drink that E&J and Paul Masson and the rest of that wine up

You party haters need to stop it

I think we really about to pat your pockets

Hey baby

My girlfriend left me today

So which one of you old raggedy ass bitches wanna 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 dancefloor

By the big screen t.v.

where your pants go?

Some of you niggas I swear

I try to throw y’all raggedy asses' a party

And y’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!

Y’all gotta be some of the clumsiest muthafuckas

To the sounds, now it’s on

Y’all done fucked up

Get out, get on

Speed up nigga

Get up, take your weed on

Yea nigga, the drunk nigga said it

Your pockets, that’s where I’m heading

Kick up