Pitch In OnA Party

Momma, I know you said 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 'cause 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 (oh, yeah)
And to you false-balling niggas, just grab your crotches
But if you paid, nigga, pat your pockets

And for sure (yeah), you've got yours (hm)
I've got mine's, and we're balling (that's right)
So call up everybody (what we doin'?)
Let's pitch in on a party for sure (hm)
You've got yours (yeah)
I've got mine's, and we're balling (like a motherfucker)
So call up everybody (uh-huh)
Let's pitch in on a 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 (me)
'Cause we don't need a whole crib full of dudes again
And here come the police with them big black boots again (damn)
Kicking niggas out, handcuffing and stuffing
A gang of Jackie's chicken in they mouth (stop)
Anton and Sean pitching a fit
'Cause 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, 'bout to hide it
'Cause y'all ain't drinking mine up
You better drink that E and J (hm, hm)
And Paul Masson and the rest of that wine up (hm, hm, hm)
You party haters need to stop it
I think we really 'bout to pat your pockets

And for sure (hm), you've got yours (yeah)
I've got mine's, and we're balling (that's right)
So call up everybody (what we doin'?)
Let's pitch in on a party for sure (hm)
You've got yours (yeah)
I've got mine's, and we're balling (like a motherfucker)
So call up everybody (uh-huh)
Let's pitch in on a party for sure

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 (hm, hm)
And in the kitchen and up in there on the dance floor (yo)
By the big screen TV, where your pants go? (Y'all nasty)

Some of you niggas, I swear (what?)
I try to throw y'all raggedy ass a party
And y'all don't even care (hm)
Cigarette burns in my plush (damn)
Empty beer bottles in the brush (fuck)
And my bitch acting like a lush (hm)
Boy, what else could go wrong?
Somebody kick the extension cord out-

(Move)
(Y'all gotta be some of the clumsiest motherf-)

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 (huh?)
Yeah, nigga, the drunk nigga said it
Your pockets, that's where I'm heading, kick up

And for sure (hm), you've got yours (yeah)
I've got mine's, and we're balling (like a motherfucker)
So call up everybody (hell yeah)
Let's pitch in on a party for sure (hm)
You've got yours (yeah)
I've got mine's, and we're balling (all day)
So call up everybody
Let's pitch in on a party for sure

You've got yours (yeah)
I've got mine's, and we're balling (that's right)
So call up everybody (like a motherfucker)
Let's pitch in on a party 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 (sure, sure, sure, sure, sure)