Turn The Party Out Lyrics - Tha Alkaholiks

Intro: tash 

Yeah, tha alkaholiks 

Ay j, I got a crew 

They called the loot pack 

And they can get crazy fresh y'all, crazy fresh y'all 

My man jack is about to get fresh y'all 

Verse one: loot pack 

Check the flavor here's a rootin tootin hydraulic trooper 

Tha alkaholik grouper in the house and when I bust the hula-hooper 

Peep my ish, when I flips next I flash with the cracker jacker 

A true loot packer 

Gettin versatile when I smile toastin to the funk 

All punks put your glass down, or end up in the trunk 

You wonder when my dope styles sound kind of varied 

The pictionary, man with my backpack, I'll carey 

Mariah took her back, and show her how I pack, loot 

Kick lyrics on originally outtrack black in fact 

People call me moody, I simply knocks the booty 

Pull up my hoody, and then I bust a sam goody 

Verse two: tash 

Bitches on my woody 'cause I likes to get the loosest 

I eat niggaz up and wash em down with deuce gooses 

A colt .45 'cause I gotsta rush the likwit 

Tash from the group that the bitches wanna get with 

I kick it from the east all the way to the west 

Yes stay away from booze that puts the hair on your chest 

And that's a little piece of advice for the kiddos 

I bust more flavor than your teacher got dittoes 

I keep it up to date or take it back like the twist 

E-swift is out of town so the pack load the disc 

So, take your ass home, good night, the party's over 

If your ass is drunk, ride home with someone sober 

Yeah... tha alkaholiks, ah yeah, the loot pack 

(the party's over, it's all over) nineteen ninety-three 

And this is how we kick it 

Verse three: loot pack, j-ro 

I'ma wreck the neck conducting props like randy wrecker 

The mecca licka mega-hot mega-mike checka 

Call me diesel to the easel, the weasel, the wacky 

The packy, the rikki, tikki, the taffy 

One for the trouble, two for the trouble 

I gotta get snaps and spit raps on the double 

On and on to the beat I wreck shop 

Scoop a rumplestil-skin then I'm out, the brother with the clout 

Be so dead on the loopa, the super-duper wrecka mic checka 

I roll soul like an old trooper 

I used to play football, now I'm into rockin 

My rhyme is the tailback, the track is the blockin 

My name is j-ro and I've been waitin for ages 

To let the world know what I've been writin on the pages 

I don't smoke sess it's rough on the west 

Ok, I confess, I puff on the stress 

I rip it when I wreck it, when I mic check it 

Brothers check the flav, check the alkaholik record 

While I flip styles, and rip styles, and hit styles 

And hit piles for miles of styles, I still pile 

The flavor flippin funk, bringin diesel be the packer 

A trooper loop, scoop you like a hula-hoop and smack ya 

Like you stutter, I ribbedyribbedyribbedyrip styles, I'm comin 

The loot pack, tha alkaholiks keepin niggaz runnin 

Runnin, yeah, do that shit, yeah 

Turn the party out, yeah yeah 

Turn the party out, c'mon c'mon 

Verse four: e-swift 

You think that you can fade this, you must be out to lunch 

They call me e-swift, I'm from tha alkaholik bunch 

I just downed a brew, now check out one two 

It's the liks baby rockin with the loot pack crew 

Funky like con-funk-shun, more style than stylistics 

I got mo' beats than magic's got assists so 

Raise up off me, or get snatched by the collar 

The party ain't over till that fat bitch holler 

I'm in the house so check the way I flow 

Niggaz say I'm fat, everyday I say I know 

But my head ain't swoll, I stay down to earth 

Never gangbang, never claim the turf 

But I drink a gang of forties, ain't nuttin wrong with that 

Unless you go buckwild and start bustin off your gat 

*bang, bang bang* 

*stumbling* 

Ay nigga fuck that the party's over man! 

Everybody get they shit get the fuck out