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Intro:
(first 0:52 -- small club, Liks performing live next 0:20 -- sounds of clinking ice cubes, drinks being poured) Voodoo - Alright, we're back on WLIX this is Voodoo and uh *chaos ensues* E-Swift - Aiyyo, they came down, you know I know y'all get asses all the time But do me this favor I want y'all to bust the freestyles for us I wanna know who's first up, you freestyle? Tash - Yo yo, we got Crackerjack from the Loot Pack about to se this shit off, ay Crackerjack Set it off. I know we on the radio, yo Crackerjack set it off Verse One: Crackerjack Ya dumb dunce it goes once upon the rhyme, Jack is out to clench a fist and drop flows that gets papes like The Abyss All in this, freestyle's wild when I'm throwin this Non-bogus brothers shake the hip and toe and just Get involved, roll with the sould, make the head nod Look at the bash slash back I kick the abstract Make brothers say "Damn, that rap's fat," recline that ass back A smack-back and slap from Wild Child with the ramshack I used to pick up the damn slack bed on the ramps back in the days, when Eric, was in the, honey phase Nowadays, turn in applications Rockin the Appalachians with the ladies with the sexy activations on the Blackwatch, I own a black watch, although I'm Blackwatch You want to, confront who? A microphone check one two Complicated for ya (yeah) I got the naps that break the pics Plus the props from the Liks Ha haa, Loot Pack's on the rise Sayin, "Liks liks liks boy, run your backside" Yo, J-Ro, Mad Lib, my man Just, get on the mic and please arise the jam Verse Two: Mad Lib, J-RO I bust the animated suspension, vocabulary wack MC prevention My division is itchin for the switch Pitchin upon the West coast, the best brad and boast Bragadocious, ferocious emotional osmosis I skip like a stone when I lake over a break I rip microphones and I take over the fake creWWWs I wish I could sing like Smokey do But I'm vocally locin with the Loot Pack crew I'm Mad Lib, the bad kid, brothers try to do wht I did Back in junior high, cause I'm fly with my Vocabulary tradition, total chaos rhythmatic static, in fact they case erase so stay off Cause nobody knows how it goes with the flows and rows of hoes froze, chosen bust erosion on the lows when The ill speak, plus the Liks knot thick Mad quick to rock ya lip, like hip-hop to grits But yo freak this, I come with uniqueness I'm like Pepe LePew yo, hoes are my weakness Back in high school you didn't think I could get nifty Now I'm on your magazine rack down at Thrifty Since eighty-three I been housin folks All the way from Orange Country out to Thousand Oaks It ain't a, nother rapper in the country who can crunch me If you don't believe me, run up and try to punch me I flip the funk like Monk, Higgins when I'm diggin I'm swiggin on a Snapple cause my crew be wicked when we gig it I rock the mad vocab, when my toe jabs I'm so bad I make you flow bad, like when I blow lads to pieces Verse Three: Tash No releases on the two steel wheels Comes the lyrical skills that kills more ducks than oils spills My niggaz run for the hills, I can track em through the mountains Rico kick that kind of shit that got more bounce than Roger Troutman So passs the weed to the top top seed With lyrics as deadly as the VD's that make ya lungs bleed Plus I dig like coal miners through the crates of old timers I be blowin up the spot like dynamite with one-liners Oh reminde,r to my ex-bitch when I find ya I'ma smack you for them times I had to start sixty-nine Yes on the low, my nigga with the hat to the back Get on the mic and show these niggaz where you at Verse Four: Wild Child Here I am doing shows, wall to wall Nate stacks tall I still won't fall Never will I be sellout poverty, some don't believe in me Still I get my verbs on, my verse on, I raps long You're dead wrong, all in all should say the sale starts when A&R says go, you start with the dope verse and you're sold, now you're on clearance when the record starts sellin But I'm not willin, to be uncovered from the depths of the under I'm under, for the duration The past present future revelation I gain the trunks of those who comprehend Because the know I send niggaz through the other end Of this industry, commercial side envies me Females are freakin me, no time for em At least not yet, just a few that I will call bitch I'm not a player, strict rhyme sayer, say your prayers Now I lay me down to sleep Don't sleep, I'm on the creep To invade the holes of the ill-minded I find it's fat, rewind it back slack, not here boy Wack to the skull-crack when I attack Unleasing crazy chaos you're way off, so stay off I'm about to blast off Outro: J-Ro - Word is bond! On this snoop babe, that's how we do it (YouknowhatI'msayin?) And that's how we do it, on KLI, K What is this? KLIX? Oh yeah Where we at again? Ah it don't matter, we rock it for the whole world anyway Tash - Yo we gotta give a shout out, a shout out J-Ro - Can we give a shout out? E-Swift - I'd like to give a shout out to everybody that's listening to this radio station right now, I hope you got your tapes on record cause you know we just flippin J-Ro - Everybody that's down with real hip-hop West coast East coast North and South |
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Intro:
Back once again to wet up the whole area Check my style out Verse One: Tash Read my lips, my dick be makin bitches leave tips Castin shadows over battles like a lunar eclipse Cause the man that makes you jump like you the grand prize winner of a Lexus I'm back again to test your reflexes If you don't think I can flow then you can ask E-Swift If you don't believe Swift then you can call Steve Griff If you don't believe Griff then step up to fuck with I Call you up and send you as a gift to hieroglyph Cause the Liks got lyric tricks datin back to eighty-six While my thousand dollar system still busts the pause mix So my style be comin at you more deadlin than a cobra With these niggaz on my mind like is he drunk or is he sober Mind your biz while I rhymes like Biz to the tent I slam like a fifth that stays hidden Not to be fucked with, under any circumstances And I don't have to sing to send these bitches into trances Chorus: E-Swift (repeat 4X) I give the party people what they like Somethin hype, to keep em rockin all night Verse Two: J-Ro Next it's, the man freakin funky flow flexes Bustin in my All Day I Dream About Sexes Walk into your living room there I am Stroll to your kitchen there I am Run to your backyard hmm there I am Everywhere you look there goes the Ro-gram That's why you hate me, you can't escape me You can't even erase me off your tape We the A-L-K, H-O-L-I-K-S Comin like new pimps humps and stress to your chest J, to the R-O, just rockin on I keep the party poppin til a new day is born The Alkaholik name won't change not a bit I told you on the last skit dick you can't tell me shit We kick it wicked, so you can get addicted To the hip-hop that we drop, get with the liquid Chorus Verse Three: J-Ro, Tash Punk MC's get bent, I'll leave a dent in what you sent I got your city covered like a motherfuckin tent Some say I rap funny, give my money to the needy The way Ibust will get you dizzy like a VD I hang with thugs I'm like drugs so why try me I'm swift like Ozzie Smith, your flow ain't goin by me He's a sufferin succcootash, throw him in the trash Show him you the man that'll boom bash I hold MC's up like money it ain't funny When I leave em in the corner broke up like crash dummies Get a doctor, sock the, volts to the chest For the cardiac arrest, fuckin with the freshest Cause even on your best, I leave you like Ness Cause I'm colder than a forty straight out the ice chest So it's easy to distinguish who drunk the Olde English Cause it stays in my system till I drain it out my... (arguement with girl) How many alcoholics we got here in the house? *cheer* How many pot-heads we got? *cheer* Same fuckin assholes |
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| 3. |
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Intro:
That's the Alkaholiks functions, conjunction junction The remix version for all the brothers out there that got shit on they chest and just wanna let it out (Tash) ANything you could do I could do fresher WHen I'm on the microphone I rock the shit without no pressure Cause I snuck my forty ouncer past the bouncer with the stun gun I gots to get some lyrics off my chest so let me run one Cause who's bad? Not Michael Jackson when I asked him I even rock the mic for seven days with Toni Braxtion It's the, Liks, rockin like a six point six So while I be scoopin bitches you rush the porno flicks (J-Ro) For reals, I gots more skills than an occupation center I got your hoe cookin my dinner Action, lights and cameras ain't needed Indeed it's, the nigga that be gettin rappers heated I'm J-Ro, and my style is darker than a mole My rhyme is so hot you got to stop drop and roll All the Liks releases, become masterpieces Oh jeezus, my style is sick like pork greases Chorus: And I can't holt it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out) They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out) They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out) They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta, I gotta let it all out (J-Ro) I get in em when I sin em, the Alkaholik venom I fold your clothes with your body still in em The rhymes I got, hit like Ronnie Lott The only way you take my spot is with a shot I grab rappers by the hand and make sure they understand That they can't scrape J-Ro the man A nigga who stays, in the old school ways And just like Subways, I can make your days We got more soul than James Brown and platform Adidas The Likwit crew, comin new like a fetus So run tell your granny, your pops and your girl Niggaz like me gonna rule the world So all aboard the J-Ro train to FunkyTown Express from the West so it's best that I clown (Tash) I bust the Alehze on ice on down to Beck's brew I got more fame than Dana Dane I hold mics like Donahue Cause I'm committed, admit it, you was Too Legit to QUit it Dancin with toilets now you can't get busy with it WIth the vintage Olde GOld gettin dusty in the cellar I throw my shit deeper than Jeff Hostettler So yo what you got, cause god DAMN it's hot It's the Alkaholik rhymer up in your night spot So ease up off my line, and let me rhyme I lose you like the jewelry that that bitch can't find Call me E.T., but yo, it don't take a secret psychic Cause even in the future I'ma frak it when I mic it Chorus (Tash) With flows rough enough to cut ya, beats enough to touch ya Known to rock the cooles with the liquid rhyme structures It's the man with vocal tones that hurt words to broken bones I got flows throughout my body deep rooted like kidney stones So tap into the cold while I torch MC's Cause I be itchin for a scratch like the Force MD's But yo fuck that, Tash is in the wind with the gin I gotta pass the mic to J cause he can't hold it in (J-Ro) I can't hold it in my friend the Liks get the most clout We be scorin points like Michael Irvin on the post route And just like Joi boy, I make your bones ache man Just how much punishment can a rapper take man? The homes be like "Where you been?" man I been creatin We had you salivation like the dogs that be waitin for the Kibbles n Bits, I love pits tits and rap hits And Bruce Lee flicks, and clockin yapes with the Liks (E-Swift) I can't hold it in I gotta speak my mind THere's a lotta half-ass niggaz thinkin they can rhyme But their style is not buttah, it's mor elike Busta without the A YOu never think of nuttin fresh to say The freshest DJ from the state of Ohio I remember when you battled, cuttin up Survival Nots toe fucked with, used to brag and boast Packed up my Technics, now I'm on the West coast, now I (Tash) Damn, we gotta get that shit off our chest nigga Yo before we get up out I wanna shout it out to my nigga Diamond D |
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Intro: Tash
("Yes yes y'all, and you don't stop" - repeat 12X) Hello Let me tell ya about the Liks See it *echoes* say it *echoes* Ah, yo Verse One: Tash I walked into a store I stepped straight to the freezer I grabbed some forty ounces and a few Bacardi Breezers I threw em on the counter then I went to find some chips I'm thinkin bout this bitch I'm bout to visit with the hips I asked the counter person for the biggest box of Trojans Cause when I be onthe pussy I cause nuclear explosions He put them in my bad, totalled up my sums He said, "That comes to thirteen dollars," but I didn't have no ones I gave him twenty, in walked some shorties Eyes beemin red headed straight for the forties Five foot three wannabe Tupac's They asked the man behind the counter for the Newport boxes They stole some cans cause the man couldn't see em Cause he busy tryin to tell em next time he'll ID em One was starin at me, then suddenly it hit him That's that nigga from the Liks let's crack the forties with him They gave me daps they said I freak my raps They said they homey got some flows and twist off the beer caps Halfway finished, I asked em what their ages Cause they lookin like, they barely out the puberty stages Fifteen, sixteen, one was too embarrased He said they started drinkin fuckin around and went to Terrace It wasn't long before the forties was gone So as I turned around I told my young niggaz to stay strong Because no matter how you scan it you're the future of the planet You don't wanna be a rapper cause it's drainin entertainin too much strainin on your brain, I told em they don't need it They hit me with a card and said, "Call us if you wanna gt weeded," yeah sixteen years old Hangin out drinkin forties in the East Columbus cold As they jumped onto they bikes in the knee-high snow They all turned around and said, "You ain't shit Rico!" Chorus: J-Ro, Tash Can I send this out once, for my niggaz smokin blunts Twice, for my niggaz rollin dice Three times, for my niggaz bust the rhymes So they don't do crimes to make it through the hard times As we send it out once, for my niggaz smokin blunts Twice, for my niggaz rollin dice When the Liks is in the house we let you know like yo! If you hit me with a forty black I hit you with a flow Verse Two: J-Ro It was a Friday night, house party goin on At my homies house, from dusk til dawn Blunts in the air plus kegs of brew Some half naked-bitches gettin pushed in the pool (In the corner was the DJ, gettin nice Feelin that shit, off the Alehze and ice) I only had one mic, now imagin A gang of drunk MC's who wanna start rappin One grabbed the mic and held on too long ("...baby I'm on the mic, and I'm on the mic... *crowd boos* When I'm on the mic (Pass the mic god damn nigga) doin what I like, and when I'm on the mic...") Push came to shove *bang* now he's gone That's what happens when the liquor does your thinkin So keep this in mind when you're out there drinkin Chorus: Tash, J-Ro Outro: J-Ro, Tash And I'm out, time to get busy As we flow up out this piece I ain't even mad, I ain't even mad I ain't even mad at y'all It's the Alkaholiks... Yo yo, mic check one two one two Transmittin live through the headphones, you know how we do it low budget style For all MC's in the houe I know how you feel I know you feelin the vibe right about now Crackin the forty, sittin in the car, or at the club bobbin your head to this album But yo, we gonna give you, we gonna give you a second to catch wreck Go ahead, get your freestyle on and you don't have to be twenty-one rock that shit |
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Verse One: Tash
Caps get peeled rolling in my force field Like a nine with hollow points I keep rap flows that's ill So when you walkin down the block you better watch who you approachin I'm not your R&B singer, so ain't no need for vocal coachin Just a forty and a roach and I'll admit you rock the units While y'all niggaz couldn't move me if you worked for Starvin Students Downin all beer types, from St. Ide's to Red Stripe (yipes!) The menace stuffin mics down motherfuckers windpipes Has returrrrned, to burrrrn, it's time y'all niggaz learrrrrn I neaturalize y'all niggaz like relaxer in a perm with flows that go against the grain with a story so compellin I should mind The People's Court, snatch the mic from Doug Llewellyn and host my own show, after Bill Cosby comes Ricooooo! Transmitting live to all my black people Catch my drift, I'm down with my nigga E-Swift My name is Tash, I'm from the group that you don't wanna fuck with Never shy, sippin on some why ask why Smokin thai with this bitch that's more fly than Jasmin Guy Hooked up with John Q so let me do my thiiing while niggaz rock the play shit that they bought from Chess King But still, I train rhymes to flip like a seal Niggaz say my rhyme skill on the steel is unreal But all I do is chill and swing it when I bring it Oh shit that's my nigga show these niggaz how you figure Verse Two: Q-Tip I bring it to your chest pour all the way live And deliver ill verse guaranteed to cause highs When we start rappin heads roll like Patton With the flood blood clot the Alkaholiks rhyme a lot Yo I'm like Grimace when I'm on this rap scrimmage ANd I got this magic wand to make your puny soul diminish The Abstract delivers, I be the Queens nigga on point Mary Jane ain't nuttin but a joint They called a nigga up to add a little bit of flavor Now I'm cuttin and slashin like Luke's light saber Yeah, what? You trapped in the zone Where MC's get seared and all spots blown And in this rap shit a nigga need to be thicky I fuck with the crew who downs the deuce deuce Mickey's I'm from the rotten apple, y'all niggaz can't grapple And love to the Liks, hit your ass like a tackle (Pow, bust my liquid-ass style Peace to Mad Lib and my nigga Wild Child) Verse Three: J-Ro Yo put in the disc E While I hit the whiskey (Bust a rhyme off the head J) The nigga missed me I'm in this rap game so I'ma aim to be best It's fresh, but off the head it's like the dunk contest I don't walk the street, I roll my Jeep in an instant I rock the beat to sleep like an infant The Likwit crew, comin like this on you With that four minute Olde English piss on you You're bustin dumb raps off the cap, oh shit But I got the pen and pad locked down like a pit I let the, ink submerger, into the thin wood sheets Beats make my head bop, so I'ma rock it for the streets I fill all my days with big butts and boom I let my pants hand cause my big nuts need room I'm not old school, or new school, I'm modern school, I'm ditchin When my girl starts bitchin I gets got like a kitchen I fly down like the Chi-town wind Cause I got the iller noise to make the hardcore grin When, the saints come marchin in I'ma roll right by em in the fly Lincoln Roughneck niggaz wanna box me down Cause I got the ladies lookin like Foxy Brown The Liks bring the beer Tip sticks it in your earholes I drop the mic and strike the Heisman pose Verse Four: King Tee Hardcore G, I get hardcore man From the underland a fuckin wonderman, bam Lunatic potential, an isperential differential Confidentially smashin instrumentals On this tune I bring raps of doom to the mic And put my rear shit in flight, peep If the drunk funk don't wanna hump in your trunk Man you got some motherfuckin junk |
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(J-Ro)
I pull up to front with a smash to the ground black duly Niggaz in the street gettin wild and unruly Digga B was in the front so he let me through the door I never get frisked so I pack a forty-four Straight to the bar, can I get a rum and coke? The whole club was filled with the indo smoke E-Swift was scratchin, Tash was hoe catchin I had the latest fashion but my shit wasn't matchin So King Tee was baggin, the nigga Threat was braggin Bout his brand new, baby boo, fiendin with the rag in Lorenzo's, but anyway, them hoes was deep Peep, E-Swift shoe em how we creep (E-Swift) Check you out, yeah you baby, up against the wall Here's a dollar ten rum and coke, heavy on the alcohol Starin at your chest, and I can only guess Lord have mercy what's up under that Adidas dress Yo shortay, you're lookin kinda nice Stick around and watch us rock the mic device She gave me this look like she was puzzled or troubled I don't think I'm large so she didn't bust my bubble It's the Liks baby where your girlfriends at She said they got thrown out tryin to sneak in the back No sweat, I'll go out and get em Hooked it up for Noid and Tash to get with em Now we on stage stop the mic from back-feedin Got the three hoes in the front row chillin That's how it be when you play high post Cause all I wanna do is tap that ass and get ghost (Xzibit) This is how I roll it, I met her at a club last week It was this fly ass freak, I didn't sleep, I got the digits, laid back Coolin at the crib one day I think I'll call her, we're talkin on thephone for half an hour I finally ask her can a nigga come through She talkin bout she ain't dressed I said "Cool, I'm still comin over" I get there, she's chillin in some undies and a robe Ice cold, forty down in the freezer And roll up blunts at my leisure, I play like I believe her How she tellin me she ain't no skeezer An hour later I was breakin her off in each and every position that you can ever put a bitch in I got up and then I washed my shit Alright bitch, word got her rings then I split Yeah back to the shade, so I can get my lounge in effect Xzibit keep the hoes in check, so check Chorus: Repeat 2X All I really wanna do Is tap that ass 'fore the night is through All I really wanna do Is tap that ass and get ghost with the cash (J-Ro) I was drunk as hell-est, I begin to bill for my pray the club reminded me of whylin at the Bush back in the day That's when I seen her, the freak from the diner Her name was Nina, or Tina, or was it Regina Fuck it, the bitch with the tipple bitties and the boomin bass I said my name is big game all in her face I said for what it's worth, I'm the best on earth Kickin folls off my turf since the day of my birth I got a pocket full of money do you wanna help me spend it Can I get in your backfield like Cornelius Bennet She said, "Mmm, J-Ro yeah! Just let me know the time and I'll be there" I said, "I'm drunk, tired, hoe, for heaven's sake Let's go to Larry Parker's for a burger and a shake" We got to the place I started stuffin my face Not a bid did I waste, cause it was good to the taste I didn't wanna get stuck so I said, "What the heck I left my money in the truck so won't you pick up the check" And the next move, you might think it's tasteless But I gave her a tip and got ghost with the waitress (Xzibit) We rip shows, and hoes drop clothes backstage it's funny The shit bitches do for money Only jockin on a nigga with his name in lights I'd rather kickback relax and play the shades real tight Yo last time, caught it with this fresh-ass hooker Kept runnin her mouth about what it last meant to her I said, "Look hon, all I gots is blunts, forties A couple of brothers cause I don't know the kids before me You're trippin." Dip into the streets to chill Nigga these days, I'm gettin PJ's, on the freeways It's lovely, I get home, blaze up another drink of somethin kinda stronger, to make the funk last longer Yo, it's the one and only who welp the bitches Thinkin they got me but yo they gettin they-self I'm a bomb like the stealth, and hit way up above your wealth You felt the vibe when I tapped that ass Chorus |
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Intro Chorus: J-Ro
Alkaholiks got the freaks that'll make you say (Daaam!) Alkaholiks got the freestyle to make you say (Daaam!) Alkaholiks got the rhymes that'll make you say (Daaam!) Everytime I make a jam make you wanna say (Daaam!) Verse One: J-Ro E-Swift test the rockey launcher, let's blow up the spot Show em what we got for the ninety-flow shot I'm the, brown bomber droppin verbal scuds I write rhymes while my momma peel the skin off the spuds This ain't baseball, naw, the Liks won't slump So make room, for the crew with beats the jump Yo, I'm the baddest man with a hit since Willie Mays I'm playin for the A's, O.G. was right cause Rhyme Pays I walk through a rainstorm, I didn't even get wet I was bailing through Hell I didn't even bust a sweat So you must have a locomotive, I mean a crazy reason To wanna step up, it's sucker punk season Bring it on young one, so you can get done I got mo' styles than the miles to the sun Ninety-three million, five thousand flows And here's one more for the hoes Chorus 2X: J-Ro (beats, freaks, rhymes, jam) Interlude: Xzibit Repeat 8X: (liks liks liks baby, liks liks liks baby) Geyeah, Alkaholiks for ninety-fo' Makin more dutch than Ross Perot Check it out, yeah Like that, Xzibit all in your grill Hah, that's that nigga Xzibit, yeah Cause in ninety-four It's all about the flowws, the hoes and the forty-o's, nigga! Verse Two: Xzibit Kick your, dopest rhyme I'll break it up like 3rd Bass I'm from the crew that sets it off by sprayin beer in your face So the ninety-four to them I put my niggaz that remember means I'm steppin to the mic with lyrics colder than December (Brrrr!) The liquidator with the hardcore demanor's bustin out the perpetrators I see through em like a Zima So I'm never caught between a hard place and a rock Cause I kill rhyme bandits bare handed like Mr. Spock I told chief not to start no beef He tried to shoot me with his gun I caught the bullet with my teeth Cause I'm stronger than the bull that's on the Schlitz Malt Liquor Hittin up your cities with the Alkaholik sticker Cause I feel like bustin loose It's the wicked pain inflictor with the Mickey's deuce deuce Droppin rhymes like a boulder on the twenty-one and older That's what your momma with my picture tattooes on her shoulder So rap artists, "Get ready to rumble!" Cause I got lyrics up my sleeve that slam harder than Mutumbo I heard your demo tape that shit was faker than a scam While I be droppin shit that make you say Chorus 2X: Tash (beats, freaks, flows, hoes) Verse Three: J-Ro I've been told that my style is so cold it make your nose run and j I make the ladies say, "Make money money!" I used to have a curl but I cut my shit real low Cause every weekend I had a spin on the pillow Watts, Willabrooke, even shook, when I took A fresh-ass hook out my notebook Dan-na-dah, dan-na-dah *ESPN theme* I love sports I even watch soccer and the girls on the tennis courts You try to tackle me you couldn't make me fall Cause I been movin ahead since the day I learned to crawl Y'all, aww shit, let me make a wish I wish all the punk MC's turn to fish So I could just hook em, take em home and cook em That's how I floss yo pass the hot sauce When I walk down the streets I leave my feetprints in the concrete, cause I'm fat meaning, I'm so complete Like a freak on an elevator I'ma fuck you up It's the Ro, with the, inebiriated flow I hate to boast but I'm the host with most And I'm ghost, here's a toast to my people's from coast to coast Outro: Xzibit, Tash It's like that (Daaam!) It's like this uh, it's like that (Daaam!) It's like this uh, it's like that (Daaam!) Well it's like this uh, it's like that (Daaam!) Like that, word up, Alkaholiks (Daaam!) X to the Z Xzibit (Daaam!) in the motherfuckin place, yeah (Daaam!) Let me shout it out once, once, once (Daaam!) To my nigga King Tee you don't stop To my nigga Diamond D you don't stop TO my nigga DJ Pooh you don't stop To my nigga J-Ro you don't stop To that nigga E-Swift you don't stop To that nigga D Pimp you don't stop TO my nigga, all, across the board This is how it go and I won't leave you, sore Uh, the freestyle flow dicks Rico's in the house and I'm from the fuckin Liks Don't perpetrate or you get perpetrated Rico's in the house yes yes my niggaz made the whole set up, your whole damn crew'll get wet up Nineteeen ninety-four in the house we won't let up Yes, the freestyle flow on and on... |
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(sample - "back in the days I knew rap would never die" - krs one)
Verse one: j-ro The year is 2004, people talk about war I had to hit the floor when the bombs began to pour Ten minutes ago I was mad cause my stomach was grumbling Now the whole world is crumbling I hear people scream across the street gettin crushed This went on for twenty minutes then the whole world hushed I couldn't see shit but I could feel myself breathin Damn I'm still kickin but I'm just not believin I give thanks to God then I'm off on my mission Ain't no stars in the sky so it ain't no wishin I wonder, I wonder, I just can't under-stand Why, am I the last man? Verse two: These crazy thoughts in my head won't stop Where's my moms and my pops and what about hip-hop I'm pickin up things that could be of use to me Too build a makeshift crib where hollywood used to be And it ain't no forties, it ain't no blunts I ain't had no ass in five years and eight months Five more years pass, and I still survive And I'm through with wonderin who's still alive Until one day I'm just walkin along And I hear this kid singin a hip-hop song He said, "that's the way it is, and it's like that" I said, "yo kid c'mere, where you learn that song at? " He said, "my daddy taught me about the hip-hop game I'm eight years old and rakim is my name" He said, "yo I'll take you to him, come follow me; But first you gotta prove that you can mc" So I cleared my throat got in a b-boy stance And I ran through a rhyme that made him piss in his pants With tears in his eyes, he grabbed me by the hand And then we ran, ten miles across the sand He took me to the spot, dig deep underground Where I can hear the sound of the big bass pound I wasn't really sure, but I swore we smelled blunt smoke No joke loc, well can I get a toke? He took me to his pops and he handed me a spliff And out behind the wall came tash and e-swift They took me to a freestle session it was on I knew hip-hop would never be gone Five hundred hip-hop deep Yo we cool in 2014, alkaholiks still rulin Ooutro: It's gonna live forever This goes out to the p-town, lbnt Knowhati'msayin? Check it out Hip-hop don't stop Alkaholiks Check it out |
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Intro: Tash
Yes yes yes yes yes yeah-he-ha-ha-ha! Back to drown ya'll motherfuckaz! Who we got, we got, we got We got the Liks, we got the Liks, we got the Liks Cause MC's in ninety-five, MC's in ninety-five MC's in ninety-five that think they rock like MC's in ninety-five, MC's in ninety-five MC's in ninety-five that swear they rock live Verse One: MC's in ninety-five they need way more rehearsin They write they booty kyrics then they add they little curse in YOu're not a true hip-hop person Spend a little time with your rhymes and quit makin wack versions I send this shit out to all them niggaz from that group With the ninety minute demo sounding just like Snoop You better bizzay, your ass up out my rhyme zone Fore I leave you on the ground broke up like pine cones You're rootin and tootin but ain't did no shootin while the freshest hip-hop, it curses verses like a wicked witch Disaster, cock the rhyme flows back to kill To get me out your system takes more than Golden Seal Cause I bust so many flows I gotta file my shit in columns while MC's be goin down like Olympiads that slalom, rock-bottom I got em, left without no watchers While I be housin niggaz like they put up for adoption I rock loaded, I never get promoted But through the bullshit my crew stays devoted While you be bustin lyrics bout the funs y'all niggaz toted I'll be standin like a b-boy with both arms folded But no exucses, I still get the loosest When RIco's in the house tryin to grab the mic and juice this So back the fuck up like we told you last time Cause it's the Liks in the house with the ninety-five rhymes Chorus: Repeat 4X We can do out thing (we can do our thing), bottoms up! Verse Two: J-Ro I wake up, kill a roach, call the homies, hit some weights Reminesce about the shows we did in fourty-eight states Banned in the rest, but we was on tour with who De La, and Quest, we made the crowd say yes (yes) Now it's like fuck, Make Room, move your ass out my way Bay-bee, bay-bee WIth all these hoes around clwon, why you wanna bang? Let's have a celebration like Kool and the Gang I bring it all the way back, like a punk return I rock some spots and call more shots than Chick Hearns The only MC I like is Amante I was drinkin Asi Spumante wit cha auntie Bust them lyrics shots from the AKG When it comes to style and finesse, I'm the epitome Hit a beat, make em all retire, flyer higher than a jet, like Stet I'm on fire Causin pain like a runaway train you don't stop Drop the track, now watch it flow back to the top I'm the J-R-O, not J-E-R-U And you know what we came to do, bottoms up! Chorus Verse Three: King Tee When you hear screams, that means King Tee walked in The advertisement, and that nigga's bent Raise up off the wall, bitches Last Call Ready for the ruckus, pushin motherfuckers off the stage Teela's got a brand new gauge So Make Room, for the crew with beats that I got a complex I guess I bust best with stress A mess, don't bring that shit to the West, cause Uhhh, I bring drama, like Jeffery Dahmer Choppin up MC's with they mama Ah-hah! Oops I made a funny with the dozens The one-est, who busts rough rhymes for the cousins Super Nigga's comin! Faster than a bullet Leapin over buildings, wavin at the children And don't even trip cause the Alkaholiks funk don't cease Tash I'm up out this piece Chorus (repeat until fades) |
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| 10. |
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The Baby Bubbas in the house
We came here to party, so get up everybody (repeat 4X) Well my name is J-Ro I came to rock the world And my name is Lil Tone I got all the girls In the place to be is Devastating E And Exhibit on the mic so viciously The Baby Bubbas in the house (repeat 2X) I say sticks and stones may break my bones But this gat sure nuff will kill ya And if you're messin with Tone then you will see On the street is where I'll leave ya I say I don't play games when I play that thang You make a move get up and to the boogie the bang Cause I'm a, Superfly on the microphone And you can tell by now I got it goin on See I wear my Adidas shoes real real tight Just so I can do my windmills right I'm fresh out the box, baby can you dig it Funky def rhyme comin straight from Exhibit See we came here, to rock the world I broke out the sheen and refreshed my curl See I hip, hop, never will I stop Protect and serve you like Robocop Well my name is E in the place to be I like to drink cold old, forties Drink until my stomach is numb And talk about tall big ever-rum Rappin on the mic like he's the man With this break I'm Superman Lookin like Kurtis Blow's song Singin dum-diddy-dum-diddy-diddy-dum-dum Well I'm the king of romace, don't stop to rock GIrl I can't dance, but I can pop-lock I wanna freak freak, I'm so unique Get your panties wet every time I speak Well you spell my name with a J-R-O I'm a hip-hop professional Sippin rum and coke straight out my cup Yo E-Swift won't you cut it on up? Ayy DJ, aiyyy DJ Yo what's the name of this song, man, what's the name of this song? Flashback, always coming right and exact Flashback, and you know we could never be wack Flashback, Baby Bubbas comin right at you Flashback, Lil Tone, what cha gonna do Well I was walkin down the street it was sunny and hot I saw my sexy girl drinkin on a soda pop I said, "Uh baby doll, you got it goin on You make me feel warm like butter on popcorn A sexy chocolate, you're sweet like a cookie Why don't you play rookie, so we can go boogie?" A hoochie coochie, a inny minny monny My rhymes stay shinin like gold on a diamond Some can chill let me tell my grin Cause I was there the first day when pimpin began Because Uffy told Duffy, and Duffy told me Then I told it to the Mack then they make the movie Well I was standin on the corner talkin to myself I said self, you rhyme like no one else Well you the rapper man's rapper, dressed fresh and dapper Everybody knows you do the funky hand clapper Remember that party down on eighty-fifth You best believe man you was shootin the gift So I bought myself a forty and some candy too Slapped myself out and started doin the do Thanksgiving I went to mom's house Cookin that pork and I seen the mouse Shit wasn't right, I lost my appetitie She made me stick my black ass there all night I was stuck, she didn't give a fuck I found that I was shit out of luck And my stomach had a big-ass loll So I drunk some Pepto-Bismol To the hip to the hop you just don't stop On the microphone is where I rock Sucker MC's talkin all that stuff Party people let me hear you say rahhhh See I rap real strong, remove you like a tumor You're nothin but cum on the sole of my Puma You know I'm def, ladies say I'm fresh See I rock the crowd til there's no one left I'm slick like oil, I'm rollin in my caddy I make the females scream, "Hey Cad Daddy! What's up with you? The Baby Bubba crew?" We kick it on Electric Avenue So all the girls know I'm colder than the freezer Exhibit in the house party people I'ma Libra My name is Lil Tone and I'm good to go And my zodiac sign baby is a Leo My name is Devestate rock from dawn to dust My zodiac sign is Aquarius G-G-Gemini is my zodiac sign I rock the house party at the drop of a dime Baby Bubba's on the mic, E-Swift's on the cut So get up out your seat and shake your butt The Baby Bubba's (repeat 3X) Yes, everybody put your headphones on Sit down sit down yes calm down The question was, what is an Alkaholik? A Alkaholik is this Some people take their first drink of alcohol They like it, or they don't They come back tot, or they stay away You listen to hip-hop for the first time, you like it or you don't You either come back or you stay way You come back to Tha Alkaholiks, liquid flows, every time baby So get it right, get it right motherfucker! The Liks is in the house for ninety-five, keepin it live Yes yes, all the hip-hoppers say yes yes And remember this, you cannot escape the power of the T's And on that note, we gonna take it to another level Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha *urrp* excuse me |
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Intro/Chorus: E-Swift
Welcome to the next level The L-I-K-S, what makes them motherfuckers so damn fresh Verse One: J-Ro Youse a nigga everybody diss cause you can't bust this You got a bad name like Dick Butkis Welcome to the next level, of rhyme flowin Scratchin, hookin up beats, and hoe catchin Everytime I come home, I got fifty messages I only call back the girls with big big breasteses Ooh, I got bitties, in all the major cities The safest way to have sex is right between her (tittes) I beeped this fillie from Philly, we was puffin on a phillie She started actin silly, so I popped her like a willie I'm like Kukamunga, I'm way out And you know I got the flow that'll never play out I was raised in Cali just like a palm tree I rock the mic from London to the Mohabi Tash Diamond D and the Ro to the J Amazing feats happen when we come out to play Chorus Verse Two: Diamond D Out the funk bag of tricks Just for kicks, I represent with the Liks So here's the vicks, I'm hittin harder than a brick Tricks get slick, and face the dick real quick You better recognize, adjust your bifocals Your style is local, I sit on beats in Acupulco I put words together like Peter Jennings And skate on motherfuckers like Peggy Flemming So woah to those who owe From one oh four five six to nine oh two one oh I'm sippin on pina colada Two blocks off La Seneca, at the Ramada But hold up, I'm not done yet I get hard like the perm pimps wear on Sunset So recoginize when you feel it DITC, you can't steal it, aight Chorus (Tash) My men, my men Chorus Verse Three: Tash, E-Swift For all my niggaz in the places with blunts in they faces Off the two turntables with the anvil cases It's the L-I-K's that blaze and amaze that (Gots to roll deep) in these crazy-ass days Bu the Alkaholik rhymer, King Tee and Diamond D Got the gats pointed at ya like we're to round three Cause nineteen ninety-four is the year we overdo it With the house party beats and flowin like fluid Cause ain't nothin too but to do that shit and print it But it's all about the loot so every move is documented And vented, by the man born for lyric kickin Coolin out with your bitch eatin sweet and sour chicken Exceeing Visa limits if the tab's on you I get drunk and reminesce about the shit I used to do We used ta, take out crews as a hobby after two in the lobby Me, Mike D, and my beatbox Robby Sendin kids back to the lab for more practice The only way they'd win, if we battled to see who's the wackest Ten years later, still a hip-hop slave A prehistoric b-boy makin beats in my cave The L-I-K-S, what makes them motherfuckers so damn fresh It's the, liquid flows that we spillin on ya Broadcastin live from Southern California, and we out Chorus |
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