[Intro]
|
Party people in the place to be
|
Party people in the place to be
|
Party people in the place to be
|
Ladies N Gentlemen, he's BDB
|
A.K.A. you host for the evening
|
By your people, he believin in fake MC's
|
|
[Buckshot]
|
A lot of y'all, think you know it all
|
Want me to fall, but y'all the same niggas at the party on the wall
|
Askin shorty to dance, do she wanna groove, no chance
|
She fuckin wit Buck, I'm on the move, you understand
|
Stupid, wise up and get intelligent
|
See that hardcore speakin is irrelevant
|
Teachin, when I'm on the streets and
|
When I'm at a show I see my niggas is defeatin
|
The purpose, no longer am I nervous
|
I told you, you shittin on me, I'm comin back to blow you
|
When I do this, don't act like it's a shock to you
|
If I shock you when you bow down, say true
|
Now you can say you knew you was fuckin wit the general
|
But generally speakin, I didn't even know you
|
But I knew your kind, I dealt wit the same mind
|
Saw the same plan, ended at the same time
|
|
[Chorus]
|
Party people in the place to be
|
Party people in the place to be
|
Party people in the place to be
|
Ladies N Gentlemen, he's BDB
|
A.K.A. you host for the evening
|
By your people, he believin in fake MC's
|
Buck got plenty extra greevin, breathin
|
You know that I shall proceed
|
|
[Buckshot]
|
I can't wait to get rid of y'all Captain Crunch niggas on the mic
|
One hit wonders, scared of the under, I'mma bring the light
|
To make ya niggas come out of the closet
|
You might have to see me in the party, watch it
|
I set the flame, see usually the aim is
|
To burn down the cane field, must remain real
|
Keep the stainless steel
|
Bulletproofs the proof that the streets is real
|
Two shots to the belly, now the body feel ill
|
I will take ya niggas right above the hill
|
And everybody got the skill, one spliff
|
Two, three, four spliffs, and make ya ball out
|
Everybody call out, it's the black, that make you lay back in the cut
|
And ask "What the fuck is that?" nigga chill, relax
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Buckshot]
|
I bomb first, leavin no time for you to rehearse
|
When you hear the gunshots, nigga disperse
|
Shit gets worse if you persist, and tryin to diss, son, imagine this
|
The vocalist, every time I told you this
|
You told me that you knew in that I owned you this
|
What owned you this? My niggas be retaliate
|
Had to make an example of niggas and demonstrate
|
How we don't fuck around wit y'all
|
We might bring the pound for y'all, bust a round at ya
|
Police put the shell up in the jar, for the evidence
|
Kid, ever since I was fifteen, I was liftin
|
Big clips and magazines, readin them and heatin them
|
Put them in the bottom for the enemy to plead son shot him
|
Got him cuz he want to be the talker and the big spender
|
Until he got hit, bump the fender
|
Now he's misdemeanor minded, always caught up in some petty shit
|
Til he got wit BD, now he ready, kid
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
Ladies N Gentlemen
|
| Buckshot |
