or
Kurupt

Hey what time is it nigga? (I don't know)
Oh shit, 12 o'clock
Oh shit, we got to get the fuck up outta here (hell yeah)
Nigga, it's check out time nigga
Hey call up Kurupt, call Daz room (hey there bitch, where Suge at nigga?)
Call Suge, call all the niggas tell em to meet me downstairs
(Where K and them niggaz at man?)
Tell the valet, bring the Benz around
(Hey y'all seen my shoes?)
Hey Kurupt, y'all niggas driving or y'all flying back, whats up?
(Man, I'm rolling man, fuck that shit)
Hey Syke nigga, come on man, get up out the bathroom fool
(Fuck that, I lost some money nigga)
Aw nigga, damn

Now I'm up early in the morning breath stinking as I'm yawning
Just another sunny day in California
I got my mind focused on some papers while I'm into sexy capers
Give a holla to them hoochies last night that tried to rape us
Will these rap lyrics take us, plus room all up in Vegas
I'm a boss player, death before I let these bitches break us
Last night was like a fantasy, Alize and Hennessey
A hoochie and her homie dirty dancing with my man and me
Told her I was interested, picture all the shit we did
I got her hot and horny, all up on me, what a freaky bitch
First you argued, then I fight it, til you lick me where I like it
Got a nigga all excited, it don't matter just don't bite it
I never got to check out the scene
Too busy trying to dig a hole in your jeans
Now it seems, it's check out time

We gotta go
We gotta go
Gotta go, gotta go
Yeah baby, it's check it out time
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
Gotta go nigga, gotta go (y'all know what time it is)
Hey, c'mon man get y'all bags man call that valet motherfucker
Tell him to get a nigga shoe, cause we out this motherfucker

They label me an outlaw, so it's time for the panty raid
My fantansies came true, with Janet on, I'm in a Escapade
But did it all end too soon
All the homies running through the halls room to room, so I assume
Since I'm a player like my nigga Syke
Then it's only right for me to disappear into the night
My game's Trump tight, so I find time to recline
Sneak into your room, instant Messiah, shit wines of all kinds
I ain't got that much time
So hurry up and pop the Dom and let me hit it from behind
Since I'm only here for one night, I got to get you hot and heated
Play like Micheal Jackson, and Beat It
One more thing I like to mention, I'm done and I'm out
Cause there's someone else who deserves my attention
So all the homies round up in the lobby
Cause busting bitches is a hobby, nigga
It's check out time

We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
Hey yo man 'Pac ay where the where the fuck is Daz at man?
This nigga locked up or something
The only one not to leave
Yo man it's check out time, it's time to get out this mother
You seem them bitches?
We out man, fuck that shit
Yo Rece! Yo nigga whats up?

Hey I'm living the life of a boss player
The front desk calling but I'm checking out later
My behavior is crazy, from what you did to me baby
If walls could talk, they'd say, you tried to fade me
I'm putting in work, but didn't hurt from the jacuzzi to the bed
Caressing your thoughts, cause I'm living Fed
Heard what I said? Passion is crashing the room
From the liquor we consumed I heard a boom
I'm blacking out, you're yelling out 'Big Syke Daddy'
We did it in the caddy on the highway, my way
I'm lost in a dream, and so it seemed, to be the night
Five bottles of Cristal and I'm still tight
Out of sight, for 'Pac and Kurupt
As I get it up, once the doors close you stuck
In a heaty, sticky situation
Get up baby, you ain't on vacation
It's check out time

We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
Hey, it's check out time
Hey 'Pac, nigga where my motherfuckin, where my shoes go nigga?
Where my motherfucking drawers and shit at man?
Man y'all niggas was in here partying too fucking much
What the fuck y'all doing nigga?
Kurupt, go tell Daz man and Bogart and the rest of them niggas
C'mon man, niggas is tripping man
Front desk all calling me telling me to get the hell outta here man
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
We gotta go
I ain't got no more money, somebody loan me a hundred

Written by HIMES, TYRUSS GERALD / JACKSON, JOHNNY LEE / SHAKUR, TUPAC AMARU / BROWN, RICARDO EMMANUEL
Published by Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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