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(feat. Mad Skillz) [Timbaland] Yo... dot-da-dot-dot-dot, party ain't over Uh-huh, what, uh-huh, what? Dot-dot-dot da party ain't over Diggi do, uh-huh, what? Uh-huh, what, the party ain't over Uh-huh, what, yeah, what... diggi-diggi-diggi-diggi-diggi... [Magoo] I'ma kill you all, like O.J. Diss Maganoo, for real you must pay Listen to the way my rap flow delay His mama named him Clay, I'ma call him Play Back of the bus, with Rosa Parks Too much to say, watch my remarks South to VA, look psychadelic Y'all be killin me, for real on the really Recognize the P, when you see he sport the Kangol with N-I-K-E Break me off a piece of that, Kit-Kat You do the horse and make your Gucci wet Came through the crowd, heard the brother booin Said real low, 'Hey whatcha doin?' Don't you know I've been rappin on tracks since back in the days when sex was eight-track Letras de cancionesRelax and jump to it, like Duran Duran Black as Buckwheat, still get a tan Go over to your girl, hey what's yo' number You and your crew must be Dumb & Dumber [Timbaland] Timbaland, uh-huh, understand Kickin the fly beats, I'm a fly band Not Peter Piper but, Peter Pan Beat, guaran-guaran, teed to make you dance People wanna know where I where I get my rhythm Rhythm, come from, the thing called wisdom Wisdom is the thing that comes from the dumb-dumbs when the, clock, strikes, twelve and it's on People already already feelin my groove Now's the time for, me to show and prove Now it's time to get back to my basic method Record and play play play each segment [chorus] Sardines! Hey, and Pork and Beans, ha-hah Do you know what that means? It's twelve o'clock, and the party just don't stop [x2] Aight? [Magoo] When it come to flows you best to re-up Diss me to my face, get the taste slapped out Rapped out a hit on the plane out to Spain My mind go in space when I'm kissin on jane Can't Stand the Rain, but, love Missy I rock with mad funk so my middle finger pissy Look for me I'm Chico undercover at the Nico Mag and double-ooh got gas from burrito Lay you like Frito if you're white then amigo In my plat tuxedo, the rap Al Pacino Star in Casino, to a veterino Not Italia-no, but still gambino Most of y'all rappers can't do your part I'ma finish up what you all can't start Got no heart I thought on your LP I'm on your radio and on your TV [chorus x2] [Timbaland] and pork and beans Did you know, did you know, uhh, Skillz [Mad Skillz] Now who gets you what you want when you want it? (My man) Who keep it real with your shorty never front it? (My man) Who hit that, split that, keep it coming Who hit you with the knot and hold on to a hundred? (My man) That's what I thought; quick, I'm too slick to get caught If I like a whip, the whip gettin bought The boss, and rapper out get tossed I don't care if you got a 50 page ad in The Source Of course Lo Life, Lo Life's my name If you John Blaze, then I'm James Flames Uhh, Mad, uhh Skillz on the track So uhh, pardon me uhh, as I come back From Letras Mania