[Intro: Johnny "Guitar" Watson & Junie Morrison]

La-di-da-da-a, da-a (I like this flavor)

La-da-da-da-di-da-da-a, la-a (La-a, la-a, la-a)

Let me tell you, I'm out here

From a very far away place

All for a chance to be a star

Nowhere seems to be too far

[Chorus: Kanye West, Junie Morrison & Ghostface Killah]

No more parties in L.A.

Please, baby, no more parties in L.A., uh

No more parties in L.A.

Please, baby, no more parties in L.A., uh

No more (Los Angeles)

Please (Shake that body, party that bod—)

Please (Shake that body, party that bod—)

Please (Shake that body, party that body)

[Verse 1: Kendrick Lamar & Kanye West]

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"

Um—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 in North 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, 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 him 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

Make me 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 Cap'n 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 union fee

And I want two of these, moving units through consumer streets

Then my shoe released, she was kickin' in gratuity

And yeah, G, I was all for it

She said, "K-Lamar, you kinda dumb to be a poet

I'ma put you on game for the lames that don't know they a rookie

Instagram is the best way to promote some pussy"

[Chorus: Kanye West]

Scary, scary

No more parties in L.A.

Please, baby, no more parties in L.A.

[Verse 2: Kanye West]

Friday night, tryna make it into the city

Breakneck speeds, passenger seat—somethin' 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 tastebuds

And the 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 got hired

When I get on my Steve Jobs, somebody gon' get fired

I was uninspired since Lauryn Hill retired

And 3 Stacks, man, you preaching to the choir

Any rumor you ever heard about me was true and legendary

I done got Lewinsky'd and paid secretaries

For all my niggas with babies by bitches

That use they kids as meal tickets

Not knowin' the disconnect from the father

The next generation will be the real victims

I can't fault 'em, really

I 'member Amber told my boy

No matter what happens, she ain't goin' back to Philly

Back to our regularly scheduled programmin'

Of weak content and slow jammin'

But don't worry, this one's so jammin'

You know it, L.A., it's so jammin'

I be thinkin' every day

Mulholland Drive need to put up some goddamn 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 for 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

Had my life threatened by best friends with 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 just mean, 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 have popped the Xans

I know some fans thought I wouldn't rap like this again

But the writer's block is over; emcees, cancel your plans

A thirty-eight-year-old eight-year-old with rich nigga problems

Tell my wife that I hate the Rolls so I don't never drive it

It took six months to get the Maybach all matted out

And my assistant crashed it soon as they backed it out

Goddamn! Got a bald fade, I might slam

Pink fur, got Nori dressin' like Cam

Thank God for me (Los Angeles)

Whole family gettin' money, thank God for E

I love rockin' jewelry, a whole neckful

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-dro-dro-dro-drop, 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 all my cousins I love 'em

Even the one that stole the laptop, you dirty motherfucker

[Bridge: Larry Graham]

I just keep on lovin' you, baby

And there's no one else I know can take your pla—, pla—, pla—

[Chorus: Kanye West, Junie Morrison & Ghostface Killah]

Please, no more parties in L.A. (Shake that body, party that body)

Please, baby, no more parties in L.A., uh (Shake that body, party that body)

No more parties in L.A. (Los Angeles)

Please, baby, no more parties in L.A., uh

No more parties in L.A.

Please, baby, no more parties in L.A., uh

[Outro: Junie Morrison]

Let me tell you, I'm out here from a very far away place

All for a chance to be a star

Nowhere seems to be too far

Swish

[Produced by Madlib and Kanye West]