WC

Fuckin' Wit Uh House Party

WC


"L.A.! Californ-I-A!" (repeat 4X) 

It all started on a Saturday night, I was at the Tilt 
Faded off a eightball, when I got the phone call 
I recognized the voice right off the bat 
Octavia, a.k.a. the neighbor-hood-rat 
I used to run up in her but I had to play broke 
cause the bitch was known to twist mo' than hundred spokes 
Talkin bout a party she was givin and niggaz was dippin 
She wanted me and my crew to come through and 
I couldn't find CJ, Toones was out of town 
And Mack and Cube wasn't out nowhere to be found 
And all that bendin solo shit, played out with Cooley High 
Even in the movie Damon caught a black eye bitch! 
Ain't no peace treaty motherfuckers is losin 
In nineteen-ninety-eight, ain't too many niggaz chosin 
So what makes you think I'm comin out tonight hoe? 
You must be on Triple D: Dick, Dope and Dynamite 
She kept claimin that security was tight 
And if I came, we'd both be comin tonight 
So I jumped off my kizznouch, grabbed a coat and my coat 
Picturin my dick all down this bitch throat 
Loaded up my heater, took the black nina 
Jumped in my rizzide, headed for the Westside 
Rollin in the rigga with the naughty 
Bumpin "Flashlight" fool, headed for the party 

"L.A.! Californ-I-A!"