Artist: Slaughterhouse Album: Party {S} Song: Party Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Crooked I] + (Royce) What the fuck you talkin 'bout? (You ain't in my lane nigga) This is Slaughterhouse (me and you ain't the same nigga) Why you think your bitch on my dick? Cause I'm a paid nigga Made nigga deep in her pussy like a gravedigger I'm so high that I can chill on the roof Pop an Oxycontin pill in the booth, give 'em the truth Tell the world them lyrical killers still on the loose If I make the crowd bounce my nigga Eminem will recoup That's why the rhymes Crooked I spit, is makin a mosh pit Fly shit, sicker than hospice, takin them hostage Yeah, we don't party like you niggaz do Cardi, we don't party like them niggaz do 4 AM, 20 groupies on the tour bus On a coke high, waitin to fuck the four of us Nahhh, we don't party like you niggaz do Nahhh, we don't party like you niggaz do Put some blue dolphins off in the vodka I'm 'bout to blast off, now I'm feelin proper We don't party like you niggaz do We don't party like you niggaz do [Chorus: Royce Da 5'9"] Wa da da dang, wa da da da dang - blaow! Wa da da dang, wa da da da dang [Royce Da 5'9"] Fuck you nerds doin everything cause Jay Z done said FUCK you and your new urge to be a fake sneaker head FUCK you and your ball game floor seats If you just there with a broad, neither one of y'all ain't scorekeep Probably thought LeBron was a cornerback Heat game, wearin Grape 5's and a Hornets hat (fuck you) Fuck you and your leather jerseys and your hairy arms Niggaz bald then they get big-headed like Barry Bonds Fuck you and the crowd that you perform in front of Like you was born a stunna, your money reformed a runner Your Instagram got bitches sayin "I heard he rich" So you just fucked your first bad bitch at 36 That's what I call fake felt, never saw a weight scale Shirt tucked in in front, showin off your H belt This one of them moments where your money ain't the issue I can call you corny cause corny niggaz get rich too Still a sucker - corny niggaz get rich too Sucker - we don't party like you niggaz do [Chorus] [Joell Ortiz] Man fuck you fuckboys, you boys fuckin with the wrong one Fuck your fake high, don't give a fuck if you on one Fuck that broad you're fuckin, that pussy probably smell cra'y Fuck, you ain't a G, who give a fuck what your belt say? Fuck you and your section and your bottles and your sparklers and your shades that look like night vision goggles (fuck you) Knock off, enough with all the narcotics you knock off The hood jumpoff's the only time you get your rocks off Snapple fact you never pop off, your block's soft Man I'll knock e'rybody on your block block off You fake gat clapper, mad actor I'm backwards, watch how this pump give you mad asthma Put your punk story in its last chapter I fucked the pumps off a diva, you a Kat Stack'r No party's like a house party kid You know what shorties sleepin on that couch probably did That's what we get into, why even knock? You'll never get into a house party, we don't party like you niggaz do [Chorus] [Joe Budden] Yeah; I know a couple new niggaz tried to start this Let me help you out dawg, trickin is still trickin regardless We not in the same, you funny to us I use my mouth for my G, you need your money to fuck You do a lot of that, talkin down, I'm done when I bust Take community pussy and be the dummy to cuff It's like e'rything you do with the opposite sex is the opposite of correct, we ain't gotta give you respect So, whoever raised you ain't practiced for real Type to buy a bitch a phone, be all checkin the bill I've seen your type, corndog, wack as a fuck Type to pass your man a hoe, then get mad when he fuck Like you do all the shit that a real nigga don't All that shit that a real nigga won't Since I don't know if this sucka shit is contagious, you the nigga we see and run No you ain't gettin no bitches, you busy bein one And one last thing for the record 'fore I get out of here We don't party like you niggaz do