The Notorious B.I.G. — Where’s the Party At?
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Yeah, yeah, yeah
And ya don’t stop, and ya won’t stop
And ya don’t stop
I was a terror since the public school era
Bathroom passes, cutting classes, squeezing asses
Smoking blunts was a daily routine
Since 13, a chubby nigga on the scene
I used to have the trey-deuce
And the deuce-deuce in my bubblegoose
Now I got the Mac in my knapsack
Lounging black, smoking sacks up in Ac’s and Sidekicks
With my sidekicks rocking fly kicks
Honeys want to chat
But all we wanna know is where the party at
And can I bring my gat?
If not, I hope I don’t get shot
Better throw my vest on my chest, ’cause niggas is a mess
It don’t take nothing but fronting for me to start something
Bugging and bucking at niggas like I was duck hunting
Dumbing out, just me and my crew
‘Cause all we wanna do is
Ladies from front to back
Sipping on Champagne glass
It’s all where the party’s at
(It’s where the party’s at)
Ladies creeping their ride
Pimping and getting high
To be where the party’s at
Hugs from the honeys, pounds from the roughnecks
Seen my man Sage that I knew from the projects
Said he had beef, asked me if I had my piece
Sure do, two .22s in my shoes
Holler if you need me, love, I’m in the house
Roam and stroll, see what the honeys is about
Moet popping, ho hopping
Ain’t no stopping Big Poppa
I’m a Bad Boy
Niggas wanna front, who got your back? (Biggie!)
Niggas wanna flex, who got the gat? (Biggie!)
It ain’t hard to tell I’m the East Coast overdose
Nigga you scared you’re supposed to
Nigga, I toast ya, put fear in your heart
Fuck up the party before it even start
Pissy drunk, off the Henny and skunk
On some Brand Nubian shit beating down punks
Ladies from front to back
Sipping on Champagne glass
It’s all where the party’s at
(It’s where the party’s at)
Ladies creeping their ride
Pimping and getting high
To be where the party’s at
Bitches in the back looking righteous
In a tight dress, I think I might just
Hit her with a little Biggie 101, how to tote a gun
And have fun with Jamaican rum
Conversation, blunts in rotation
My man Big Jock got the Glock in his waist and
We’re smoking, drinking, got the hooker thinking
If money smell bad, then this nigga Biggie stinking
Is it my charm? I got the hookers eating out my palm
She grabbed my arm and said «Let’s leave calm»
I’m hitting skins again
Rolled up another blunt, bought a Heineken
Niggas start to loc out, a kid got choked out
Blows was thrown and a fucking fight broke out
Can’t we just all get along?
So I can put hickies on her chest like Little Shawn
Get her pissy drunk off of Dom Pérignon
And it’s on, and I’m gone, that’s that
Ladies from front to back
Sipping on Champagne glass
It’s all where the party’s at
(It’s where the party’s at)
Ladies creeping their ride
Pimping and getting high
To be where the party’s at
