☆ Unit 3-20

[Intro – Pharrell]

Yo, we lovin’ this

I got it baby

Ain’t nothin’ but a par-ar-ty

On my laced out chicks, par-ty

All my niggaz in the six, par-ty

Clipse comin’ wit’ the hits, par-ty

[Verse 1 – Pusha T]

Yo, the flow echo, grab a ho, won’t let go

Chick shake her ass, Kalipso, I’m drinkin’ on the world

Sip slow, techno scene, lace a beam

My team up, stand out like indigo dreams

In the club, bitches starin’, dress, Donna Karen

They inch a bit close to see the links we wearin’

The jealous cats fill the room, but that’s they doom

Because if the beef get set (PW: We cause a typhoon)

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The background ’cause your presence no one’ll care

For the auto-matac, retaliate if it’s sat-ac

Stagger when I walk, let my emeralds talk

Terror’s status, tote unquote top, never drop

While the competition pleads and begs for us to stop

The interlock, stack like stock, style I got

Gonna make the world build off me like catcher’s glocks, yo

[Chorus – Pharrell]

All I wanna do is drink on the world

Layin’ on the beach, takin’ sips wit’ my girl

Here they come tryin’ to trouble me

I just giggle ’cause I know they don’t see

Nor can they hear so they need to explain

It’s piece on pieces, that’s simple and plain

This is our ode to the galaxy

Niggaz in the wrong if you feel like me

[Verse 2 – Malice]

Do you not know what the Clipse is

Malicious, M.C. type relentless

Why risk going against this, senseless

You in the realm where your team is defenseless

Players we ball, you in the benches

Full of clips, underground wit’ extensions

You thought the camp had love, we show none like a show gun

Malice murderin’ MCs, except wit’ no gun

The slow gun, beat’ll live fast, die young

We from where they strike in the flash, like Cy Young

How you come where you ain’t welcome puzzlin’

Take us more sips to cliss, we guzzlin’

Got me wonderin’, how can you live wit’ yourself

Move a detective, similar to the ‘self

Drama, you want drama, we do drama

The prize package, we blow like Unibomba’

[Chorus]

[Verse 3 – Pusha T]

It’s a fine line, between the have and the ain’t got

Mad ’cause you ain’t hot, in fact, far from it

Watch you plummet, we reside at the summit

Full of clips, run this, ridiculous

Why you makin’ me laugh, eat clips

And an E-class, tap the wine glass at the lip

Then on behalf of the clique, take a sip

Remember how we used to be like now it be like, whatever

Malice and Terror, of the bad double header

[Malice]

It’s the congruent, symmetrical bomb unit

Opposition fate, end up in found unit

Sync wit’ the flow, hell no, we fine tunin’

And make the lie, kiss while you break your spine to it

Talkin’ to make you feel me walkin’ without a worry

Blaze up the spot, watch the whole crowd hurry

Magnetic, do you like a tractor, pathetic

Fully clips, M.O., yo, ready to chest hit

[Chorus x2 w/ ad-libs]

[Outro – Pharrell]

Par-ty..

Ain’t nothin’ but a Clipse par-ty

All my niggaz in the six, par-ty

On my laced out chicks, par-ty