Blame It on the DJ lyrics

by

Juicy J


[Intro: C-Ballin]
Bla-bla-blame it on the DJ
Bla-blame it on the DJ
Bla-bla-blame it on the DJ
She wanna drop dat, den run it back (Ru-run it back)
And you can blame it on the DJ
Bla-bla-blame it on the DJ

[Verse 1: E-40]
I'm on like the most requested song
In his eyes, his b*tch can do no wrong
In her eyes, look like she wanna jump my bone
Give me dome, blow me like a saxophone
When I pop my P's and spit my ism and manipulatin'
I tell her what she wanna hear and make her feel great
That's mackology, make her feel guilty, not me
When I'm wrong, I use reverse psychology
When I'm mackin' and stackin', mobbin' and mashin', boostin' up my status
From a little young adolescent to a boss savage
With big dreams and high hopes to live rich and lavish
Survival skills, mannish, hard-headed, hustlin' tactics
If it ain't no bread involved, then I can't be involved
Unless you're my relative or my potna, dawg
I ain't wrapped too tight but my raps be tight like stingy people
Ain't a ratchet type I'm a raspy type like stingy P
DJ, put the record to the needle, OOOUH!
[Chorus: C-Ballin & E-40]
The club goin' crazy, everybody drunk
And you can blame it on the DJ
(Bla-blame it on the DJ)
You can blame it on the DJ
(Bla-bla-blame it on the DJ)
She wanna drop that (Drop that), and run it back (Run it back)
And you can blame it on the DJ (On the DJ)
(Bla-bla-blame it on the DJ) (On the DJ, OOOUH!)

[Verse 2: E-40]
So OG but yet so youthful
They say, "Between me and you, 40 low-key go
I remember when the n*gga used to push blow
Now he on the charts and in the record store"
Puttin' on my chain and pendant, poppin' my collar like a boss
I'm hella long winded, I'll talk your ear off
When it comes to spittin' game, I'm a pro
Don't check me, my n*gga, check yo' ho
I'm about this paper, this playa sharp like a razor, won't save her
You wanna wife her and date her and cape her like a crusader
Every time you pay her she pay me, you buy her a Louboutin
I f*cked her in my Jeep, in the back seat of my Rubicon
pus*y was da bomb! Like this bubba kush
Brazilian wax, not no Barbara Bush
Smokin' and drinkin' and pervin' and swervin', that's what I specialize in
I like 'em dark but I prefer light skin, BIATCH!
[Chorus: C-Ballin & E-40]
The club goin' crazy, everybody drunk
And you can blame it on the DJ
(Bla-blame it on the DJ)
You can blame it on the DJ
(Bla-bla-blame it on the DJ)
She wanna drop that (Drop that), and run it back (Run it back)
And you can blame it on the DJ (On the DJ)
(Bla-bla-blame it on the DJ) (On the DJ, OOOUH!)

[Verse 3: E-40]
Indoor trees and tobacco leaves
Grind the weed down, no stems, no seeds
Everywhere I go you can smell the aroma
I got some lemon squeeze and a case of Corona
I'm mannish, even when I'm at work
I go to church smellin' like purp (Stop lyin'!)
You're right, I just needed somethin' to rhyme with that line
It's ugly out here, mayne, this the sign of the times
I be knockin' that 40 Water, his beats be it
I f*ck with my n*gga, he say the randomest sh*t
I grew up on that n*gga, he raised me and my clique
Taught us how to hustle and cook up a brick
How to knock a chick without liftin' a finger
Use my mouthpiece, no misdemeanor
Have money, have heart, can't be no marshmallow
She came in the thang with you but left with me, my fella
BIATCH!
[Chorus: C-Ballin & E-40]
The club goin' crazy, everybody drunk
And you can blame it on the DJ
(Bla-blame it on the DJ)
You can blame it on the DJ
(Bla-bla-blame it on the DJ)
She wanna drop that (Drop that), and run it back (Run it back)
And you can blame it on the DJ (On the DJ)
(Bla-bla-blame it on the DJ) (On the DJ)
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