Rock The Party lyrics

[Intro]
Gang
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

[Verse]
Please don't make me up the chop and blow a n*gga down
Slide down, bet that n*gga catch a hundred rounds
You a nerd-ass boy, n*gga, look around
I have my young wild n*gga put you in the ground
No stocks, big Glocks, tote K clips
When it's foe, we gon' blow, we gon' paint sh*t
Been knew your background, you's a ho b*tch
I'll take that lil' strap, you won't do sh*t
I'm a eastside n*gga, getting to the cash
Pull up on a n*gga, leave a n*gga laying in that grass
Go to jail but I don't really give a f*ck
And if you snitching, have my b*tch come and rough you up
b*tch at my pad, but you already know
If she not sucking di*k, then that b*tch gotta go
No lovey-dovey sh*t, 'cause I heard you was a ho
I just wanna f*ck that b*tch, I just used her for the throat
And I'm a up-top baby, I be quick to hit a lick
b*tches on my di*k, now they wanna take a pic
Opps know my name 'cause I've been with that sh*ts
So don't try to test me 'cause you can still meet the clip, b*tch
I'm a Alabama n*gga f*cking with the Bay
Shout out my n*gga Peezy, he be catchin' plays
And I'ma always be me, I won't ever change
Open fire on a n*gga, make him feel that blaze
In the crest with lil' Deez, chillin', smokin' loud
Good trips to Oakland, come back with a pound
Get caught with big poles, we won't make a sound
We shoot to kill n*ggas, then swing back around
Drunk of Henny, so now I'm feeling like the sh*t
You won't catch me in the whip unless a .30 in that b*tch
Let a ho suck the player, have 'em sit up in the den
Hit licks with no mask, it's just my blower in yo' crib
Mix the dope with my rich bro, finish out the pot
Way before I started rappin', I was known on the block
Big MACs and ARs, but I was mobbing with a Glock
Told gang "just hold on 'cause we gon' make it to the top"
Dog, how these n*ggas talkin', got 'em sounding like my kids
You know how I'm coming over dead presidents
Shot somes n*ggas, beat a case, we had to calm down again
All these n*ggas hate, I'm kinda feeling like they fans
b*tch, you know I'm the one that make it hot quick
Lately I been on my trap sh*t
Slow down with all of that rappin'
But still, you can catch me in traffic
Twelve come, I know where to stash it
Know I'm still ridin' with a ratchet
In the Bentley, know they praying that I crash it
n*ggas fake, broke, ain't never copped sh*t