Slaughterhouse - Party Lyrics
[Intro: Crooked I & (Royce Da 5'9")]What the ***** you talking 'bout?(You ain't in my lane, nigga)This is Slaughterhouse(Me and you ain't the same, nigga)[Verse 1: Crooked I]Why you think your ***** on my dick?Cause I'm a paid niggaMade nigga deep in her ***** like a grave diggaI'm so high that I can chill on the roofPop a Oxycontin pill in the booth, give 'em the truthTell the world them lyrical killers still on the looseIf I make the crowd bounce my nigga Eminem'll recoupThat's why the rhymes Crooked I spit is making a mosh pitFly shit, sicker than hospice, takin' 'em hostageYeah, we don't party like you niggas doWe don't party like them niggas do4 a.m. 20 groupies on the tour busOn a coke high, waitin' to ***** the 4 of usNah, we don't party like you niggas doNah, we don't party like you niggas doPut some blue dolphins off in a rocketI'm 'bout to blast off, now I'm feelin' properWe don't party like you niggas doWe don't party like you niggas do[Hook: Royce Da 5'9"]Wadadadang wadadadadangWadadadang wadadadadang[Verse 2: Royce Da 5'9]***** you nerds doing everything cause Jay Z done said it***** you and your new urge to be a fake sneaker head***** you and your ball game floor seatsIf you just there with a broad, neither one of y'all ain't scorekeep'Prolly thought LeBron was a cornerbackHeat game, wearing Grape 5's and a Hornets hat***** you and your leather jerseys and hairy armsNiggas bald then they get big headed like Barry Bonds***** you and the crowd you perform in front ofLike you was born a stunna, your money reformed a runnerYour Instagram got pictures saying I heard he's richSo you just *****ed your first bad ***** at 36That's what I call fake felt, never saw a weight scaleShirt tucked in in front, showin' off your H beltThis one of them moments where your money ain't the issueI can call you corny cause corny niggas get rich tooStill a sucker, corny niggas get rich tooWe don't party like you niggas do[Hook: Royce Da 5'9"]Wadadadang wadadadadangWadadadang wadadadadang[Verse 3: Joell Ortiz]Man ***** you *****boys, you boys *****in' with the wrong one***** your fake high, don't give a ***** if you're on one***** that broad you're *****in', that ***** prolly smell cray*****, you ain't a G, who give a ***** what your belt say?***** you and your section and your bottles and your sparklersAnd your shades that look like night vision goggles, ***** youKnock off, enough with all the narcotics you knock offThe hood jump off the only time you get your rocks offSnap, in fact you never pop off, your block's softMan I'll knock everybody on your block's block offYou fake gat clapper, mad actorI'm backwards, watch how this pump give you mad asthmaPut your punk story in it's last chapterI *****ed the pumps off a D but you a cat stackerNo party's like a house party, yeahYou know a shorty's sleepin' on that couch, prolly deadThat's what we get into, why even knock? You'll never get intoA house party, we don't party like you niggas do[Hook: Royce Da 5'9"]Wadadadang wadadadadangWadadadang wadadadadang[Verse 4: Joe Budden]I know a couple new niggas tried to start thisLemme help you out dawg, trickin' is still trickin' regardlessWe not in the same, you funny to us, I use mouth for my jeans, you need your money to *****
