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Текст песни Tha Alkaholiks - Turn The Party Out

Tha Alkaholiks - Turn The Party Out слова песни




Intro: tashYeah, tha alkaholiksAy j, I got a crewThey called the loot packAnd they can get crazy fresh yall, crazy fresh yallMy man jack is about to get fresh yallVerse one: loot packCheck the flavor heres a rootin tootin hydraulic trooperTha alkaholik grouper in the house and when I bust the hula-hooperPeep my ish, when I flips next I flash with the cracker jackerA true loot packerGettin versatile when I smile toastin to the funkAll punks put your glass down, or end up in the trunkYou wonder when my dope styles sound kind of variedThe pictionary, man with my backpack, Ill careyMariah took her back, and show her how I pack, lootKick lyrics on originally outtrack black in factPeople call me moody, I simply knocks the bootyPull up my hoody, and then I bust a sam goodyVerse two: tashBitches on my woody cuz I likes to get the loosestI eat niggaz up and wash em down with deuce goosesA colt .45 cuz I gotsta rush the likwitTash from the group that the bitches wanna get withI kick it from the east all the way to the westYes stay away from booze that puts the hair on your chestAnd thats a little piece of advice for the kiddosI bust more flavor than your teacher got dittoesI keep it up to date or take it back like the twistE-swift is out of town so the pack load the discSo, take your ass home, good night, the partys overIf your ass is drunk, ride home with someone soberYeah... tha alkaholiks, ah yeah, the loot pack(the partys over, its all over) nineteen ninety-threeAnd this is how we kick itVerse three: loot pack, j-roIma wreck the neck conducting props like randy wreckerThe mecca licka mega-hot mega-mike checkaCall me diesel to the easel, the weasel, the wackyThe packy, the rikki, tikki, the taffyOne for the trouble, two for the troubleI gotta get snaps and spit raps on the doubleOn and on to the beat I wreck shopScoop a rumplestil-skin then Im out, the brother with the cloutBe so dead on the loopa, the super-duper wrecka mic checkaI roll soul like an old trooperI used to play football, now Im into rockinMy rhyme is the tailback, the track is the blockinMy name is j-ro and Ive been waitin for agesTo let the world know what Ive been writin on the pagesI dont smoke sess its rough on the westOk, I confess, I puff on the stressI rip it when I wreck it, when I mic check itBrothers check the flav, check the alkaholik recordWhile I flip styles, and rip styles, and hit stylesAnd hit piles for miles of styles, I still pileThe flavor flippin funk, bringin diesel be the packerA trooper loop, scoop you like a hula-hoop and smack yaLike you stutter, I ribbedyribbedyribbedyrip styles, Im cominThe loot pack, tha alkaholiks keepin niggaz runninRunnin, yeah, do that shit, yeahTurn the party out, yeah yeahTurn the party out, cmon cmonVerse four: e-swiftYou think that you can fade this, you must be out to lunchThey call me e-swift, Im from tha alkaholik bunchI just downed a brew, now check out one twoIts the liks baby rockin with the loot pack crewFunky like con-funk-shun, more style than stylisticsI got mo beats than magics got assists soRaise up off me, or get snatched by the collarThe party aint over till that fat bitch hollerIm in the house so check the way I flowNiggaz say Im fat, everyday I say I knowBut my head aint swoll, I stay down to earthNever gangbang, never claim the turfBut I drink a gang of forties, aint nuttin wrong with thatUnless you go buckwild and start bustin off your gat*bang, bang bang**stumbling*Ay nigga fuck that the partys over man!Everybody get they shit get the fuck out

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