W.c. - Fuckin' Wit Uh House Party

"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