DJ Quik - Pitch In Ona Party Lyrics

Mama
I know you said you wanted a record that you could listen to
With no cussin' and shit
I tried
But I still gotta do this

Yo, jingle jingle
We've go 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 (ah 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 (mhm)
I've got mine's and we're ballin' (that's right)
So call up everybody (what we doin'?)
Let's pitch in on a party for sure
You've got yours (yeah)
I've got mine's and we're ballin' (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
Hand cuffin' and stuffin' a gang of Jackie's chicken in they mouth (stop it)
Anton and Sean pitching a fit
'Cause somebody rolled her bud in a Henny blunt and won't pass the shit
Who keep turning the lights on?
Why the music keep skippin'?
And why these dirty khaki niggas trippin'?
I don't know, I'm Quik, and I'm still delighted
Five-hundred dollars worth of White Star
'Bout to hide it
'Cause 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 y'all pockets

And for sure
You've got yours (yeah)
I've got mine's and we're ballin' (that's right)
So call up everybody (what we doin'?)
Let's pitch in on a party for sure
You've got yours (yeah)
I've got mine's and we're ballin' (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 ol' raggedy-ass bitches
Wanna come in here and play?
That's what my homie told her tryna cop the Cancun
Then I caught him in there hunchin' in my downstairs bathroom
And in the kitchen and up in there on the dancefloor
By the big screen TV, where your pants go? (y'all nasty)
Boy, 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 (damn)
Empty beer bottles in the brush
And my bitch acting like a lush
Boy, what else could go wrong?
Somebody to 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
Yeah, nigga, the drunk nigga said it
Your pockets, that's where I'm heading
Kick up

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

You've got yours (yeah)
I've got mine's and we're ballin' (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 ballin'
So call up everybody
Let's pitch in on a party for sure