text: Yeah, yeah, yeah
  And ya dont stop, and ya wont stop
  And ya dont 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 Acs 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 dont get shot
  Better throw my vest on my chest, cause niggas is a mess
  It dont 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
  Its all where the partys at
  Ladies creeping their ride
  Pimping and getting high
  To be where the partys 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, Im in the house
  Roam and stroll, see what the honeys is about
  Moet popping, ho hopping
  Aint no stopping Big Poppa
  Im a Bad Boy
  Niggas wanna front, who got your back? 
  Niggas wanna flex, who got the gat? 
  It aint hard to tell Im the East Coast overdose
  Nigga you scared youre 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
  Its all where the partys at
  Ladies creeping their ride
  Pimping and getting high
  To be where the partys 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
  Were 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 Lets leave calm
  Im 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
  Cant 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 its on, and Im gone, thats that
  Ladies from front to back
  Sipping on Champagne glass
  Its all where the partys at
  Ladies creeping their ride
  Pimping and getting high
  To be where the partys at