Lyrics Language: English Song writer/composer(s): Davin Vanderpool, Mason Betha, Combs, Grace Jones
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MaseIf You Want To Party Lyrics:
[Intro]
What the fuck?
'99, get your name back nigga
(Get your name back nigga)
Double Up Motherfucker (99)
Double Up Motherfucker
Don't believe it, Double Up, Uh
Yea yea yea yea What what what what Uh Uh
Yo who got the right to flip, twice the whips
Time to get paid, get twice the chips
See law ain't no good unless two dice hit
Hate me even if I didn't ice my shit
Fuck niggas, make that money and lots of it
Sold four million and somebody got to love it
They want Mase for video, ain't in the budget
I can't take a piss without a bitch tryin' to rub it
How could you know like this
When it's because of me a nigga know what nice is
I was 60 I have flow-itis
I like my weed green and my hoe's dyke-ish
You know you like this
Young kid'll live by goldie advice's
Pimp hoe's that come across so righteous
Fuck though, promote on the Rolley ices
Yo, that's why my jewelery looks snow white-ish
Come on
[1] - If you wanna party come and shake your body
If you wanna party put 'em in the air
Over there, over there
If you wanna party come and shake your body
If you wanna party put 'em in the air
Over there, over there
Yo I'm tryin' to live my life the
largest, Vipers in garages
'Nuff money to go court and fight the charges
Everybody stare at Myse the hardest
That's why I'm in them all night menages
Besides B.I.G., the criticly acclaimed
I vow, they never bring the city to shame
I pulled up the prettiest things, the prettiest range
The prettiest cars, and the prettiest stars
By far the prettiest Misses
I pull up in the prettiest sixes
So by the time you get the six
bitch, I have the seven
By the time you get the seven, I switch to the eight
When it time I get this cake, a bitch could wait
They know I could sell five so they ship me eight
Come on
[Repeat 1 while:]
All Out, motherfucker
To the death, motherfucker
Bad Boy forever
Bad Boy forever
All Out, motherfucker (Uh uh)
H World, motherfucker (Uh uh)
To the death, motherfucker (uh yo)
Yo why I'mma envy the lives or envy the guys
Who be frontin' in the Six that's really a Five
You could see I still got it by the look in my eyes
I'mma blue collar criminal, crook in disguise
It don't matter if it rain, I got a pool inside
And a stretch range so at least 20 could ride
And I could tell fake platinum from a mile away
When I rap, yo' 150 thou' get paid
So until then nigga, I style away
Four point six swit' to the Cal' away
I'm gettin' honey, I ain't with the beefin' going on
I look at nigga's cars, alot a leasin' goin' on
My heat get raised up, streets gets blazed up
Until a nigga find my dough and pays up
I lays up fuck, 'till my days up
Doggy style, so bitch don't fuck my ways up
Come on
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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