No more parties in LA Please baby no more parties in LA, uh No more parties in LA Please baby no more parties in LA, uh No more (Los Angeles) Hey baby you forgot your Ray Bans And my sheets still orange from your spray tan It was more than soft porn for the K-man She remember my Sprinter, said "I was in the grape van" Uhm, well cutie, I like your bougie booty Come Erykah Badu me, well, let's make a movie Hell, you know my repertoire is like a wrestler I show you the ropes, connect the dots A country girl that love Hollywood Mama used to cook red beans and rice Now it's Denny's, 4 in the morning, spoil your appetite Liquor pouring and niggas swarming your section with erection Smoke in every direction, middle finger pedestrians R&B singers and lesbians, rappers and managers Music and iPhone cameras This shit unanimous for you, it's damaging for you, one thing I think that pussy should only be holding exclusive rights to me, I mean He flew you in this motherfucker on first class Even went out his way so you could check in an extra bag Now you wanna divide the yam like it equate the math? That shit don't add up, you're making them mad as fuck She said she came out here to find an A-list rapper I said baby, spin that round and say the alphabet backwards You're dealing with malpractice, don't kill a good nigga's confidence Just cause he a nerd and you don't know what a condom is The head still good though, the head still good though Ladies say "Nam Myoho Renge Kyo" Make a nigga say big words and act lyrical, make me get spiritual Make me believe in miracles, Buddhist monks and Captain Crunch cereal Lord have mercy, thou will not hurt me Five buddies all herded up on a Thursday Bottle service, head service, I came in first place The opportunity, the proper top of breast and booty cheek The pop community, I mean these bitches come with uni fee And I walk through with ease, moving units through consumer streets Then my shoe released, she was kicking in gratuity And yeah G, I was all for it She said K Lamar, you kind of dumb to be a poet I'mma put you on game for the lames that don't know they're a rookie Instagram is the best way to promote some pussy Scary, scary No more parties in LA Please baby, no more parties in LA Friday night tryna make it into the city Breakneck speeds, passenger seat something pretty Thinking back to how I got here in the first place Second class bitches wouldn't let me on first base A backpack nigga with luxury taste buds And a Louis Vuitton store, got all of my pay stubs Got pussy from beats I did for niggas more famous When did I become A list? I wasn't even on a list Strippers get invited to where they only get hired When I get on my Steve Jobs, somebody gon' get fired I was uninspired since Lauryn Hill retired And 3 Stacks, man, you preach it to the choir Any rumor you heard about me was true and legendary I done got Lewinsky and paid secretaries For all my niggas with babies by bitches That use their kids as meal tickets Not knowing the disconnect from the father The next generation will be the real victims I can't fault 'em really I remember Amber told my boy no matter what happens she ain't going back to Philly Back to our regularly scheduled programmin' Of week content of slow jammin' But don't worry, this one's so jammin' You know that L.A. is so jammin' I be thinkin' every day Mulholland Drive, need to put up some got damn barricades I be paranoid every time The pressure, the problem ain't I be drivin' The problem is I be textin' My psychiatrist got kids that I inspired First song they played to me was 'bout their friend that just died Textin' and drivin' down Mulholland Drive That's why I'd rather take the 405 I be worried 'bout my daughter, I be worried 'bout Kim But Saint is baby Ye, I ain't worried 'bout him I had my life threatened by best friends who had selfish intents What I'm supposed to do? Ride around with a bulletproof car and some tints? Every agent I know know I hate agents I'm too black, I'm too vocal, I'm too flagrant Something smellin' like shit, that's the new fragrance It's just me, I do it my way, bitch Some days I'm in my Yeezys, some days I'm in my Vans If I knew y'all made plans I wouldn't've popped the Xans I know some fans who thought I wouldn't rap like this again But the writer's block is over, emcees cancel your plans I'm 38 years old, a 8 year old with rich nigga problems Tell my wife that I hate the road so I ain't never drivin' It took 6 months to take the Maybach all matted out And my assistant crashed as soon as they backed it out Got damn, got up of fade, I might slam Pink fur, got Nori dressing like Cam, thank God for me Whole family gettin' money, thank God for E! I love rockin' jewelry, a whole neck full Bitches say he funny and disrespectful I feel like Pablo when I'm workin' on my shoes I feel like Pablo when I see me on the news I feel like Pablo when I'm workin' on my house Tell 'em party's in here, we don't need to go out We need the turbo thots, high speed, turbo thots Drop-drop-drop-drop it like Robocop She brace herself and hold my stomach, good dick'll do that She keep pushin' me back, good dick'll do that She push me back when the dick go too deep This good dick'll put your ass to sleep Get money, money, money, money Big, big money, money, money, money And as far as real friends tell my cousins I love 'em Even the one that stole the laptop, you dirty motherfucker Please baby no more parties in LA Please baby no more parties in LA, uh No more parties in LA Please baby no more parties in LA, uh No more parties in LA Please baby no more parties in LA, uh