[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 Clay  Back of the bus, with Rosa Parks  Too much to say, watch my remarks  South to VA, up side to Philly  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 tapes was eight-track  Relax 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 for all my fly fans  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 dome-dome  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  [repeat 2X]  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 plaid 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 2X]