No More Parties in LA (Megamix) lyrics

[Intro: Johnny "Guitar" Watson & Junie Morrison]
La-di-da-da-a, da-a (I like this flavor)
La-da-da-da-di-da-da-a, la-a (la-a, la-a, la-a)
Let me tell you, I'm out here
From a very far away place
All for a chance to be a star
Nowhere seems to be too far

[Chorus: Kanye West, Junie Morrison & Ghostface Killah]
No more parties in L.A
Please, baby, no more parties in L.A., uh
No more parties in L.A
Please, baby, no more parties in L.A., uh
No more
Los Angeles
Please (shake that body, party that bod-)
Please (shake that body, party that body)
Please (shake that body, party that body)

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
Hey Killa, you forgot your soda dawg
My mama kitchen stankin' from the last order dawg
So many cocaine transactions I don't recall
Was Lit, tell The Judge and The Preacher Presiding Over Ya'll
f*ck The Police protocol
We Choppin' Loads Up, In The Crib
No Heat by the stove My toes froze up
n*ggas like to f*ck up their re-up money
Get rolled up
Bullet holed-up
Ran off on the plug once (Once n*gga)
Minor setback, major comeback
b*tches at the Ritz Carlton I was dumb hype
I dropped the chicken Then remixed it Was dumb white
f*ck her pretty face And that pus*y Hoe what your funds like
f*cked her in some $5000 shoes I punch right
Allergic to these weak as*h*les, n*gga gesundheit
Miss my harlem b*tch Buss that pus*y open In one night
But last time I was Out in New York I got in a gunfight
Blowbiz to the showbiz
I kick rap burnin Like kermit sippin on
Hoe tears
Million dollar world tour A n*gga with no spins
Everyday I got a new cousin n*gga we no Kin
And all this internet sh*t f*cked up the era
That b*tch ain't been the same Since Ye' dropped her off
At the airport
They only gave us 28 days So make it last
The black delegation Would like to trade Stacey Dash
For a Adele, Margot Robbie Let's Get It Poppin'
We On, f*ck It For an even trade We'll throw in a Raven Symone
Filthy Jet Black n*gga Backstage full of white b*tches
No I don't sell like Macklemore But I've got White Privilege
Try not to sell crack no more Trynna stay out the prison
That Heron sh*t I'll get your ass A gas price sentence
That snitchin' sh*t Will get your family And your wife missin'
Play position These n*ggas friendly As a box of puppies
I drop big nuts On this game They holdin' chicken nuggets
My backwood rollin' is dirty You smell that
Seen myself on comedy central Hope they bring Chappelle back
Feds listenin', all this talk About the scale back
Seen india love nudes A n*gga trying to nail that
A couple weeks I'm in Toronto I'ma see all my b*tches
But all my n*ggas can't cross the border For that all star sh*t
But n*ggas be creepin' during the weekend Give her that all star di*k
I want that pus*y, head, mouth Ass, and all that sh*t
Cocaine Parties In L.A
Throw Ya' Set Up At Some More Gang Parties In L.A
I Know Some Neighborhood Pirus Who sell yay
I know homies With them pound 6 - o's (R60) and 8 Trays
Shoutout to my mexican partner Forgot about em
When he come across the border We throwin' a powder party
[Chorus: Kanye West, Junie Morrison & Ghostface Killah]
No more parties in L.A
Please, baby, no more parties in L.A., uh
No more parties in L.A
Please, baby, no more parties in L.A., uh
No more
Los Angeles
Please (shake that body, party that bod-)
Please (shake that body, party that body)
Please (shake that body, party that body)

[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar & Kanye West]
Hey, baby, you forgot your Ray Bans
And my sheets still orange from your spray tan
It was more than soft porn for the K-man
She remember my Sprinter, said "I was in the grape van"
Uhm—well, cutie—I like your bougie booty
Come, Erykah-Badu-me—well, let's make a movie
Hell, you know my repertoire is like a wrestler
I show you the ropes, connect the dots
A country girl that love Hollywood
Mama used to cook red beans and rice
Now it's Denny's, 4 in the morning, spoil your appetite
Liquor pouring and n*ggas swarming your section with erection
Smoke in every direction, middle finger pedestrians
R&B singers and lesbians, rappers and managers
Music and iPhone cameras
This sh*t unanimous for you, it's damaging for you, I think
That pus*y should only be holding exclusive rights to me, I mean
He flew you in this motherf*cker on first class
Even went out his way so you could check in an extra bag
Now you wanna divide the yam like it equate the math?
That sh*t don't add up, you're making him mad as f*ck
She said she came out here to find an A-list rapper
I said baby, spin that 'round and say the alphabet backwards
You're dealing with malpractice, don't kill a good n*gga's confidence
Just 'cause he a nerd and you don't know what a condom is
The head still good though, the head still good though
Make me say "Nam Myoho Renge Kyo"
Make a n*gga say big words and act lyrical
Make me get spiritual
Make me believe in miracles, Buddhist monks and Cap'n Crunch cereal
Lord have mercy, thou will not hurt me
Five buddies all herded up on a Thursday
Bottle service, head service, I came in first place
The opportunity, the proper top of breast and booty cheek
The pop community, I mean these b*tches come with union fee
And I want two of these, moving units through consumer streets
Then my shoe released, she was kickin' in gratuity
And yeah G, I was all for it
She said, "K Lamar, you kind of dumb to be a poet"
I'ma put you on game for the lames that don't know they're a rookie
Instagram is the best way to promote some pus*y
[Chorus: Kanye West]
Scary, scary
No more parties in L.A
Please, baby, no more parties in L.A

[Verse 3: Kanye West]
Friday night tryna make it into the city
Breakneck speeds, passenger seat somethin' pretty
Thinking back to how I got here in the first place
Second class b*tches wouldn't let me on first base
A backpack n*gga with luxury taste buds
And the Louis Vuitton store, got all of my pay stubs
Got pus*y from beats I did for n*ggas more famous
When did I become A list? I wasn't even on a list
Strippers get invited to where they only got hired
When I get on my Steve Jobs, somebody gon' get fired
I was uninspired since Lauryn Hill retired
And 3 Stacks, man, you preach it to the choir
Any rumor you ever heard about me was true and legendary
I done got Lewinsky and paid secretaries
For all my n*ggas with babies by b*tches
That use they kids as meal tickets
Not knowin' the disconnect from the father
The next generation will be the real victims
I can't fault 'em, really
I remember Amber told my boy no matter what happens she ain't goin' back to Philly
Back to our regularly scheduled programmin'
Of weak content and slow jammin'
But don't worry, this one's so jammin'
You know it, LA, it's so jammin'
[Outro: Junie Morrison]
Let me tell you, I'm out here from a very far away place
All for a chance to be a star
Nowhere seems to be too far
Swish