Party lyrics

[Intro: Crooked I & Royce Da 5'9"]
What the f*ck you talking 'bout?
(You ain't in my lane, n*gga)
This is Slaughterhouse
(Me and you ain't the same, n*gga)

[Verse 1: Crooked I]
Why you think your b*tch on my di*k?
'Cause I'm a paid n*gga
Made n*gga deep in her pus*y like a grave digger
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 n*gga Eminem'll recoup
That's why the rhymes Crooked I spit is making a mosh pit
Fly sh*t, sicker than hospice, takin' 'em hostage
Yeah, we don't party like you n*ggas do
We don't party like them n*ggas do
4 a.m. 20 groupies on the tour bus
On a coke high, waitin' to f*ck the 4 of us
Nah, we don't party like you n*ggas do
Nah, we don't party like you n*ggas do
Put some blue dolphins off in a rocket
I'm 'bout to blast off, now I'm feelin' proper
We don't party like you n*ggas do
We don't party like you n*ggas do
[Bridge: Royce Da 5'9"]
Wadadadang wadadadadang (blao) (x2)

[Verse 2: Royce Da 5'9]
f*ck you nerds doing everything cause Jay Z done said it
f*ck you and your new urge to be a fake sneaker head
f*ck you and your ball game floor seats
If you just there with a broad, neither one of y'all ain't score keep
'Prolly thought LeBron was a corner back
Heat game, wearing Grape 5's and a Hornets hat (f*ck you)
f*ck you and your leather jerseys and hairy arms
n*ggas bald then they get big headed like Barry Bonds
f*ck you and the crowd that you perform in front of
Like you was born a stunna, your money reformed a runner
Your Instagram got b*tches saying "I heard he's rich"
So you just f*cked your first bad b*tch 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 n*ggas get rich too
Still a sucker, corny n*ggas get rich too
We don't party like you n*ggas do

[Bridge: Royce Da 5'9"]

[Verse 3: Joell Ortiz]
Man f*ck you f*ckboys, you boys f*ckin' with the wrong one
f*ck your fake high, don't give a f*ck if you're on one
f*ck that broad you're f*ckin', that pus*y prolly smell cray
f*ck, you ain't a G, who give a f*ck what your belt say?
f*ck you and your section and your bottles and your sparklers
And your shades that look like night vision goggles, f*ck you
Knock off, enough with all the narcotics you knock off
The hood jump off the only time you get your rocks off
Snapple fact you never pop off, your block's soft
Man I'll knock everybody on your block's block off
You fake gat clapper, mad actor
I'm backwards, watch how this pump give you mad asthma
Put your punk story in it's last chapter
I f*cked the pumps off a diva, you a Kat Stack'r
No party's like a house party, yeah
You know a shorty's sleepin' on that couch, prolly dead
That's what we get into, why even knock? You'll never get into
A house party, we don't party like you n*ggas do
[Bridge: Royce Da 5'9"]

[Verse 4: Joe Budden]
I know a couple new n*ggas tried to start this
Lemme 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 f*ck
You do a lot of that talkin', I'm done when I bust
Take community pus*y and be the dummy to cuff
It's like everything 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 b*tch a phone, be all checkin' the bill
I've seen your type, corndog, wack as a f*ck
Type to pass your man a ho, then get mad when he f*ck
Like you do all the sh*t that a real n*gga don't
All that sh*t that a real n*gga won't
Since I don't know if this sucka sh*t is contagious
You the n*gga we see and run
No you ain't getting no b*tches, you busy being one
And one last thing for the record 'fore I get out of here
We don't party like you n*ggas do