Lyrics:

[Intro]
Eleven o' clock, twelve o' clock, the party 'bout to pop, pop

[Verse 1]
Five boroughs of death, you don't understand
I still got New York in the palm of my hand
The party 'bout to pop, the party 'bout to pop
Fuck Patrón, I want some Remy on the rocks
I know you haters don't like this
Told y'all I'm the nicest
My swag is priceless
My mentality is righteous
This bottle of champagne ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
The DJ spinning, he ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
I got a bad chick, she ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
Her jeans so tight they ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
The homies in the building, they ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
I even got the waitress ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
That new Pap record ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
???

[Verse 2]
Walk in the party with my brand new clothes
Everybody pulling out they camera phones
Shorty says she can't stand me though
The girl's just mad cause her man is broke
I don't understand them hoes
You can't wear sandals with hammer toes
I used to be the man with coke, but I don't mess with the yay no more
Like Amber Rose
Queens up in here, they ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
Harlem in here, they ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
You know Brooklyn ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
Staton Islan' ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
The Bronx up in here, they ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
My boys out in Philly, they ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
The whole dirty South is ('bout to, 'bout to pop)
East Coast, West Coast, they ('bout to, 'bout to pop)

[Outro]
Blew up on the scene, two thousand and five
Skated off the scene with a one point five
I'm on that Biggie shit, hey you, hey you
'I want my spot back, take two'