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from Tha Alkaholiks - 21 & Over (1993)
Intro: J-Ro
(Whooo! Hah hah!) Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah we kickin it Uhh uhh uhh we kickin it Yeah yeah we kickin it (Whooo!) Yeah yeah we kickin it Yeah, Cali in the house Huh, uhh, Fred in the house Check it out, BULLSHIT! Verse One: J-Ro I'm J-Ro the man, I'm gettin down I gets mo daps than H. Rap Brown I drive the hoes wild cause they love the way I talk You can't drive me crazy cause I'm close enough to walk I bust threes like Terry Tegall, get higher than a eagle You're just a dirty pigeon, BSn bout religion I don't give a damn if you don't eat ham You grab the microphone and reguse to slam I make a nigga scared to grab the mic behind me I kick shit so deep King Neptune couldn't fine me Yo, can I get a go J-Ro? (Go J-Ro!) To let me know if I can flow I probably be doper if I smoked crack like you But Swift and Tash'll beat my ass until I'm black and blue Cause I ain't with, no way out shit I'm tired of this one-hittin played out shit Some niggaz rock like the Liks... BULLSHIT! Uhh, I hate big tits... BULLSHIT! We'll never make another hit... BULLSHIT! I don't drink cause I quit... BULLSHIT! Come on (Whooo!) Yeah yeah yeah yeah We kickin it (hold up) we kickin it We kickin it Baby youse my one and only... BULLSHIT! Baby that's a true fact... BULLSHIT! Uhh, I never leave ya lonely... BULLSHIT! Yo, I'll call you right back... BULLSHIT! Verse Two: J-Ro, King Tee Baby don't take the blame youse a real cool dame But now that I made you call my name you just don't look the same From the middle of the bed I bang your head like a rock n roller On the way out, I smacked a nigga with my pistol-a When I met you I sure wishin aye tower You hopped on my dank like there was no tomorrow All I wanted was some sexin, now you want affection Damn I hate to see your ass comin in my direction Wait here, I'll be right back, I'm goin to get a spliff You know I'm goin through your ass like Emmitt Smith Well oh snap! Here goes a fashion That's incredible, with the style That I learned back as a younglin, where's the beef Don't sleep, I used to run around with the creeps Ain't no tellin, Jack told Helen About a lot of people so I'm runnin for the border And get me a taco, gin and sako Mom and pop yo, I'm rockin this shit! It's not a plan I wrote the book called style Taught the child how to stand when he piss Be a man, go fuck Jan The white man's tan, bring back MC Shan And I rhymed every word... BULLSHIT! Wackest style you ever heard... BULLSHIT! Outro: For the beats sake, rock on rock on For the beats sake, rock on rock on And you go Whoooo! Grand groove, grand groove (Alkaholiks y'all, alkaholiks y'all) Uhh, take it back now Cause it's fat now, that's how I bring it back now Whoooo! Grand groove grand groove This one dedicated, to all the motherfuckers out there Bullshittin This wonderful bullshit how would you make a record BULLSHIT! I don't smoke no BULLSHIT! I don't drink no BULLSHIT! I don't fuck no BULLSHIT! This one goes out to the P-Town And all over, yeah baby, yeah baby, Compton baby Everybody in the house And we out... Alkaholiks... |
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from Tha Alkaholiks - 21 & Over (1993)
I stop by the club, cuz it ain't shit else to do it I'm on the guestlist, it's E-Swift plus two Stepped to the bar, cuz, it's a bad habit Open mic night, so, the Liks gots to grab it Check the mic, it sounds tight so I guess we might rock the motherfucker all night yo The niggaz went wild, the hoes went crazy We dropped the microphone than we Swayze Verse Two: J-Ro Oooh don't I sound great when I down a black eighth My style is much hotter than the enchilada plate My name is James but the girls call me God when I'm humpin I should get a gold medal for broad jumpin Rappers, talkin bout, back to the old school You never shoulda left in the first place fool Now everybody wants to be a prophet But I won't quit rhymin bout my dick so get off it You put a rhyme together but I only dismantle it So gimme a high-five cause you juts can't handle it If rap was a swimming pool I'd climb to the top Plus a triple-back, hand me the mic and watch the belly flop Dagnabit, I got a bad habit It don't matter where I'm at I seen a booty and I grab it So niggaz step back before you get lit I'm a grown motherfuckin man and you can't tell me shit Chorus: repeat 2X You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me a hot damn thing You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me shit Verse Three: J-Ro I rock you like Lenny Kravitz, or Nirvana I'm puttin suckers on pause like a comma I never ape crazy act but I got the yapes a superhero from the ghetto puttin creases in my capes (Up up up and away, J-Ro!!) I got more hoes than a canyon got echoes I'm rougher than Bluto, tougher than a callous My number one football team is Dallas Cowboys, now boys, can't you see I'm greater than Your grandpops is my number one fan You get ran on the court you dribble like Manute Bol You try to take it to the hole *crowd roars* get that shit outta here I'm more gifted than Christmas morning I pull out a pen and write a rhyme when I'm boning Me I'm tripping, let me light my Phillie blunt Oh there goes my beeper, what the hell do Billy want [Yo whassup J?] Man I quit selling weed [No I need a funky break] Well I got what you need Chorus Verse Four: J-Ro You hittin corners with the Alkies seen you pull-out cuz you great The crew who got another tape that's bumpin harder, save it! Rhythm and blues blew a fuse, and now it ain't the same They put a lot of Funky Drummers out the game They samplin the fresh hip-hop breaks, just to make a hit That's why to me, R&B, really ain't shit So peace to all the real hip-hop niggyroles The ones who knows about flows and rockin shows I wanna say whassup to the ladies I gotsta say whassup to the ladies From the Atlantic, to the Pacific I gotsta be specific, they know I'm terrific I'm pushin up to the bars, got em screamin Alkahols Ohh gosh call me Josh cause I'm bringin down the walls MC extrordinaire, J-Ro came to set it straight I never hesitate to grab the mic and meditate In LA, most niggaz walk the same Act the same, talk the same, drive the same Dress the same, shoot the same, fuck the same But this is Ro and I got my own game I drive through lyrics like I'm riding on the freeway And I don't give rappers, no kind of leeway Chumps be hittin ejects cause I break necks when I flex I be housin mo niggaz than the projects Chorus Outro: J-Ro Yeah, this goes out to King Tee DJ Pooh, yo the whole crew Yo D-Pimp for makin the track That nigga Tash Deadly Threat This is J-Ro and E-Swift Tha Alkaholiks, and it's like that |
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from Tha Alkaholiks - 21 & Over (1993)
Intro: Bartender and J-Ro Yo last call, last call, last call for alcohol! At two, you're through! {J-Ro} Ay bartendah! Bartender! {Bart} Yo whassup man? {J-Ro} Ay man, man let me get a... rummmmm an coke {Bart} Yo man don't you think you had a little bit too much to drink? {J-Ro} Ay just let me get one more man {Bart} Yo man I'm lookin out for you man, it's your life {J-Ro} Man I'll hop over this motherfucker and get my OWN damn drink Hey niggy, what time it is... Verse One: Tash It's time to roll my sleeves, fuck a few MC's up Another rough cut, from the crew that won't ease up The Alkaholik click, AKA the forty downers Flips rhymes like Calvin flips fries and quarter pounders I never drink and drive cuz I might spill my drink I failed the breathalizer so they took me to the clink Niggaz earlin in the sink cause they can't fade the Cisco I'm from the old school but I never rocked a disco Loops from the group that, likes to smack the bitches Tha Liks is hittin hookers like a gangsta hittin switches Front, to the back, to the side, to the side And make you dance with these bitches but, no electric slidin And I'm about to flip, but first I'm bout to sip Off the forty ounce of brew that I was savin for the trip Back to the lab cuz all I do is bang cuts That's why I hang around my group like a dick hang with nuts Verse Two: J-Ro I push one two's when niggaz step on my shoes Oh you haven't heard the news I've been giving fools blues Manhandling chumps that step up, just to keep my rep up I push my fist through your grill I never became a gangsta, thanks ta, my skill on the nine inches of steel You ask me what the K's for, they don't mean nothin ["K's for the way my dee-jay's kuttin" -- Schoolly D, P.S.K.] Chorus: Tash, group Last call y'all {call y'all} Call y'all {call y'all} {Last call, for alcohol} Last call y'all {call y'all} Call y'all {call y'all} {Last call, for alcohol} [J-Ro] Yeah... word [Tash] Alkaholik style nigga Verse Three: E-Swift Uh, I be one of dem niggaz known to drink a gang of brewskis Float like the wind, so all y'all can call me cool breeze Cooler than my man Morris Day in the winter The dope rhyme inventor, rockin shows at the center So pass the mic on the, down low Now go grab a forty from the liquor sto' And you don't stop {don't stop} and you don't quit {don't quit} Unless you're in the studio making wack shit Chorus [J-Ro] Yeah... that nigga Squid is in the house Verse Four: J-Ro I got a forty-four Mag with the clip (with a clip) So MC's watch your lip, cause I'm shootin from the hip ahh I rip like Oprah, in tight jeans do and splits a needle wrap a pair man because them shits is on the fritz It's crazy, a few MC's amaze me With this Alkie style of rock, Mr. Spock couldn't phase me Rhymin pays me, but I do it anyway Many say, AY, when it comes to rhymes you got plenty J I'm so cool I drink forty ounces of freon You never see me on the stage with a peon When we on the microphone it's like Jordan all alone We slam, competition, scram damn Can we get along? Nope. Switchblade to the throat to MC's who ain't dope Call me J-Ro the clepto, cuz I'm stealing to the jaw Of these half-baked rappers, trying to get raw Verse Five: Tash Soul in my strut, muscle in my hustle It's just a little something for them punks that wanna bust they little Def Jam Comedy, raps that make me crack up You better call the one-time and tell em send a backup Cuz I'm about to act up, I couldn't kick a verse J-Ro say he Got It Bad, so that mean I got it worse Check uno dos, crack a forty, make a toast Let me rip the instrumental and impress the West coast Chorus [J-Ro] Uhh... damn it feels like my bones is rattling Uhh ohhh shit! I'm outta here... Ohh yeah, tell the sons of Jones to kiss my ass |
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from Tha Alkaholiks - 21 & Over (1993)
Verse One: Tash
I hang MC's with my noose, watch me get loose The nigga flippin more styles than Snapple got juice Cause I'm too hot to handle, got more soul in my pinky Than a niggy pickin his afro and I left the skin not stinky The freshest, yes it's, the rhymer with the bottle Kickin it with my homie like Lamont do with Rollo Live at the Apollo, they still couldn't do it Cause even in New York the crew be buzzin off the fluid So testing (one), testing (two), testing (three) Too much Olde E will make you pee As you can see I'm the Alkaholik tipsy off the whiskey Get with the clippers never nappy like Misty I didn't grow dreads, cause dreads is for the rastas Tha Alkaholik click straight knockin out imposters Gots to roll deep like ants at a picnic Get with the crew that's flowin like Likwit Verse Two: J-Ro Every night I pray to god please, no more wack MC's I catch a few z's, wake up and bust these I get over like a high jumper, freaks be on my weinie Cause they know I'm packin more shit than Bandini The freshest on the map servin raps with all fixins E-Swift does the mixin, pockets fat like Rickie Nixon (Ain't no party like a Alkaholik party) So don't be a nitwit, get with the Likwit (ah yeah, ah yeah) Yeah a little louder a little louder a little louder One two one two yeah just like that, yo Yo, (flowin like Likwit) Ahh yeah (ahh yeah ahh yeah ahh yeah) flowin like Likwit Owwwwww, King Tee Verse Three: King Tee Here comes the Lik, or should I say Likwit As I gets funky on a track that my nigga E-Swift did Rollin with the Alkaholik group, call me trooper Run of the mill skills got your neck in the noose but hey, I be the K-I-N-G Tee for short Big ballin nigga playin rhymes like a sport Wicked when I kick it, yeah that's the ticket Tossin up a forty still buzzin off the Likwit Verse Four: J-Ro You ain't got enough skill, to fill up a cup So niggy won't you just shut the (hold up) The girls call me dookie man cause I'm the shit can't you smell son I gots more freaks than Prince Rogers Nelson I can't be stopped I got hip-hop wreckin powers I gotta say what's up to my buddy Ricky Flowers We got that Likwit funk, we get drunk with the .... (hell motherfuckin yeah) |
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from Tha Alkaholiks - 21 & Over (1993)
Verse One: J-Ro I knock em knock em out the park when other rappers are hitting bunts I'm a togger not a fogger step on hunts and don't do stunts I got SOUL POWER never took a cold shower Never had a girlfriend the color of cooking flour You can call me sleazy cuz my rhymes are kinda greasy Some brothers wear curls, cuz it ain't easy being peasy Like a Kung-Fu flick, I stick you in the dick, with my toothpick Tell em Rick ("You hit them harder than a fuckin brick") I like clothes and hoes but like em better in the sheets I rock more beats than Jesse Owens ran track meets] Amazing feets move, they happen everyday When the Ro to the J bring his ass out to play I weight one-eighty but I'm, fat I ki-uh-kick up dust when I bust like a cap Tha Alkaholik crew, and what we're here to do Is rock a show, knock a hoe, and crack another brew Chorus: Make room, for the crew with beats that thump (3x) Tunes hittin hard enough to ditch your trunk It's the Liks baby, it's the Liks (4x) Verse Two: Tash The super, duper, gets it poppin with the quickness King Tee and the Alkies straight gettin down to business It's all about the Liks cause we're heavy on the kicks But we're easy on the treble (adjust my mic level) So fools can here me mic checkin all the way in China The skills you can't front on, Tha Alkaholik rhymer Could rip a show up to' up so I always flex my talents but my words don't be slurrin, I never lose my balance But that's cause I'm slick tossin bottles like a discus The Liks could rock a party from Halloween to Christmas That's why I'm screamin on MC's like I'm Onyx I'm hooked on gin and tonics like your momma's Hooked on Phonics So when we steppin through, with the thirty-two of brew Niggaz better make way for the Alkaholik crew When we're steppin through, with the thirty-two of brew Niggaz better make way for the Alkaholik crew Chorus Verse Three: J-Ro First you gotta have respect, money comes next After you get THOSE, come the hoes and the sex Girl you keep askin bout the niggaz in my crew Yeah I'm down with Pooh, but what's up with me and you Cause I don't give a fuck whose your cousin who could fuck Cause I just wanna fuck, damn I wanna fuck So unlock the gate and MAKE ROOM for the heavyweight rapper The slim light skinned coochie slapper Pull over to the side so I can roll up the indo Got the bitch head bumpin on the front window Wham, bam, I spanked you ma'am I wonder how they make these rubbers from the skin of a lamb I blow into the mic when I check it Had hoes gettin naked way before I made a record I smoked a gang of liquor, I drink a gang of boom Like Ted, I gotta zoom zoom so make room Chorus Outro: Tash, J-Ro Ah yeah, ah yeah, Tha Alkaholiks Yo, before we bail We gotta give a shout out to the crew that gets the party poppin Tha Alkaholik crew Old English is in the house, and uhh What about Mickey's? is in the house, and uhh St. Ide's is in the house, and uhh Crazy Horse is in the house, and uhh Genuine Draft is in the house, and uhh What about Red Bull is in the house, and uhh Colt .45 is in the house, and uhh King Cobra ain't in the house, and uhh *bottle smashes* |
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from Tha Alkaholiks - 21 & Over (1993)
Verse One: J-Ro Mary Jane, Mary Jane, Mary Jane You're always in my brain and you help me ease the pain Cuz when you're not around I just don't feel the same I can't be your one and only but I know you're not to blame I never hold ya can't hold ya won't hold ya down Cuz you got that kind of love that needs to be spread around Some people don't approve of me being with ya kiddo They say you're bad for me, and my momma says ditto When I walk up witcha, my buddies wanna hit cha I know you been with others but you know I'll never quit ya And even though sometimes you got my mind stressed out I'm in this with you baby and you got my body stretched out Mary Mary Mary Jane ["So put that in your pipe and smoke it" -- Pharcyde] Check it out Verse Two: J-Ro Early in the morning, you gave me a buzz I picked up the phone and didn't know who the fuck it was I feel like Johnny Gill I wanna wrap your body tight Lick you from head to toe and watch you glow like a Lite Brite I met you at the park around three When I got there you was loungin in the car with my homey He said he needed a dub so I slipped him one And said "C'mon Mary Jane and let's have a little fun" I got you in the sack, I got you in the sack And like Helen tellin Jack, there's no turnin back She's the queen of the ghetto, ask my buddy Tom Mary Jane is the bomb, Mary Jane Yeah, do you love me, do you love me Mary Jane Mary Jane, do you love me, do you love me D-Pimp in the house, Homicide in the house And in love with Mary Jane Verse Three: Tash Mary Mary, why you got me buggin? Look what the homies done drug in... (Mary Jane) Prettier than any model I met her at a house party sippin on a bottle Her dress has got a nice fit I'm locked like a vise grip She's the type I'd like to spend the rest of my life with I would if I could but I know I can't support her Can't take her on vacation, wouldn't make it past the border When she ain't around I get the feeling that I need her Mary Jane be acting white but I ain't caught the jungle fever But she be so thin that I could slip her in my pocket I lick her then I knock it till I'm higher than a rocket Whenever she's in the same room with my friends They all trip because she's dope and she don't want me for my ends So just to make em jealous when she walks up to me I reach out and grab her by the booty, Mary Jane Mary Jane Mary Jane Mary Jane Mary Jane Verse Four: Tash My eyes are red, but not from cryin Whenever Mary Jane runs out, I sit there sighin Sayin to myself, "When oh when will Mary Jane come back Where oh where can I find Mary at..." ["Wear your hat" -- KRS, cut and scratched by E-Swift to resemble "Where you at" in the mix] I jump into my Benz and start my search all through the hood Cuz all the spots she used to hang in ain't up to no good But needless to say, I kept lookin and I found her Right on the corner of Central and Allandra I picked her up quick and in a hurry And then all of a sudden the undercover swooped in flurries I said, "Hold up! Don't shoot. I know this looks like a kidnap; but all I want to do is get my Mary Jane back." They took me to the station, giving me some sation and some jib about leaving Mary Jane at the crib They let me go but they kept her, because they had a bounty On her cuz she's wanted from here to Humboldt County (I left with a frown cuz Mary Jane was locked down) Once again I had lost my best friend |
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from Tha Alkaholiks - 21 & Over (1993)
Intro: Tash, speaking to J-Ro
Yo whassup man, get up man (*urrp* I can't bust man) Get up nigga, bust (I'm fucked) Get up you gotta do your verse nigga (Aight I'll try it) Get up nigga! Verse One: J-Ro I get drunk and I stumble to the phone And conjure up a bitch to bone when I'm alone OHh shit, tow back, I need to take a piss Only when I'm drunk I sing a song like this My grandma and your grandma *urrp* Sittin by the fire Hold on, turn the beat off (nah, keep it goin J-Ro can you make it?) I'm just not knowin I get drunk and start talkin mo' shit And when I got a gun in my hand you better get, out Cause my brain just ain't what it used to be Forget tryin to raionalize, cover your eyes Ah d-*urrp*, damn I'm drunk I need a chunk, no better yet a hunk of that funk When I get drunk I might act uncouth But when I get drunk I always tell the truth Yeah I'm good, I'm bad, I'm dope, I'm freaky fresh I make hip-hop fans say yes yes The Liks comin through, you know we gonna blow upop Hold up, hold up, I think I gotta... *urrrrrrp* Damn, false alarm Gettin all the ladies with my cool charm When I get drunk I might even call my daddy a punk Yeah, but only when I'm dr-*urp* drunk Yeah, let me pass the forty, to my nigga, Tash Verse Two: Tash, E-Swift It goes one for the chronic, two for the amnesia It's the pimp-slap niggy with drinks in the freezer Bust the one out, two out, (flips) type of rapper That'd get you our your seat quicker than a car jacker Slip a Colt for the fever when I'm coolin with my people Got hoes in East Columus like I'm BIlly Dee Wrinkle Cause I move like, I'm smooth like I'm Harry Belafonte Lookin for them niggaz that jumped my homey Dante All up in this bitch with the gin and Tanqueray Drink like Mr. Wendal smoke bud like Dr. Dre But that's cause I'm old enough to do that type of shit Got damn I gotta piss I pass the mic to E-Swift Yeah, I get drunk and can't nobody whoop me I'm trippin, must be the brew that I was sippin Kickin in, guess I shouldn'ta mixed it with the gin Cause when I'm layin on my back I can feel the room spin One too many, I reckon Feelin I got ta earl, any second Wanna get up but can't move, feels like I'm stuck in the groove What the fuck was I tryin to prove? I get a rep for downin four-o's All the hoes knows them Alkaholik bros Niggaz call me dad I got a fifth in the trunk Might fuck an ugly bitch but only when I'm drunk Verse Three: J-Ro Aight, think I'm feelin a little better Ready to bust this, like this And ya don't miss, check it out I get drunk and start thinkin bout my friends that passed on with every forty ounce the memory will last on Black Man Muzzle, Mike Lee and Suavey D The three MC's will always live in my memories We used to rock shows, we used to rock hoes And drink forty-o's, and wear the same clothes Damn I wish we could go through it again But I know one day we gonna do it again And when that day comes it's gonna be live But I ain't in no hurry so I don't drink and drive The ALkaholiks we gets funky when we drinkin Just a lil sumthin, to pump up the thinkin Outro: J-Ro Beer run! Ante up nigga Ha ha, put the money in the hat |
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from Tha Alkaholiks - 21 & Over (1993)
Verse One: E-Swift Hoes on my nuts just because of my position Can't fade the bitches that's always bitchin Love to kick beats, rock rhymes on occasion Down with the niggaz that the hoes keep pagin Gimme gimme gimme my gin and super-sak Then, let me hit the doobie, can't fuck with the rock Bust one shot if you're (with me with me) Niggaz swing back don't (hit me hit me) I can freak freak the funk the funk funk And hit skins all night if I wanna when I'm drunk Can't fade the pop pop pop goes the nina Tha Liks be rockin shows from New York to Pasadena When it comes to rhymes -- god damn I can rock em When it comes to boots -- god damn I can knock em Got mad flavor so do me a favor and bump that shit it's the motherfuckin Liks! Verse Two: Field Trip Aiyyo, I cut like a ginsu, I been through, hell and back, stabbers get swell Tossed from my balls Bitches lick the crush off my balls Pause, yo I'm lickin off walls to scatter, nigga this is theory and my shit is kinda fatter Stagger, cause I got shanked by a dagger Yo you can't fuck with the Wild Wild West I'm a shady ass nigga and I slit you like stress They say ballers only sport Guess But that's a motherfuckin lie cuz I got a pair of Levi's Niggaz rollin thick like a New York steak Field Trip on the beach (now got your momma on some pancakes) I know you sayin (damn that little nigga's dope) I got a loaded tec nine under my motherfuckin coat Niggaz wanna jack the back, never nope I stick my gat down your throat, and tell your ass no Verse Three: Tash The forty's kickin in I gotta drain my main vein Got drinks in my freezer bust styles I can't explain And the name of my group ain't changin cuz it fit us Hit us, one time, for my cats that ain't with us On the down low drinkin whiskey in the basement If a sample won't clear I substitue with a replacement (One two ya don't stop when it hits two o'clock You can't buy the alcohol so you drink soda pop Like that and uhh, it's like that Sometimes it's like that) [King Tee] Yeah, yeah, yeah, ay How y'all like that one right there? Y'all like that one? Yeah, that's my boys Them my boys Tha Alkaholiks yaknowhatI'msayin? |
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from Tha Alkaholiks - 21 & Over (1993)
Intro: Tash
Yeah, Tha Alkaholiks Ay J, I got a crew They called the Loot Pack And they can get crazy fresh y'all, crazy fresh y'all My man Jack is about to get fresh y'all Verse One: Loot Pack Check the flavor here's a rootin tootin hydraulic trooper Tha Alkaholik grouper in the house and when I bust the hula-hooper Peep my ish, when I flips next I flash with the Cracker Jacker A true Loot Packer Gettin versatile when I smile toastin to the funk All punks put your glass down, or end up in the trunk You wonder when my dope styles sound kind of varied The Pictionary, man with my backpack, I'll Carey Mariah took her back, and show her how I Pack, Loot Kick lyrics on originally outtrack black in fact People call me moody, I simply knocks the booty Pull up my hoody, and then I bust a Sam Goody Verse Two: Tash Bitches on my woody cuz I likes to get the loosest I eat niggaz up and wash em down with deuce gooses A Colt .45 cuz I gotsta rush the likwit Tash from the group that the bitches wanna get with I kick it from the East all the way to the West Yes stay away from booze that puts the hair on your chest And that's a little piece of advice for the kiddos I bust more flavor than your teacher got dittoes I keep it up to date or take it back like The Twist E-Swift is out of town so the Pack load the disc So, take your ass home, good night, the party's over If your ass is drunk, ride home with someone sober Yeah... Tha Alkaholiks, ah yeah, the Loot Pack (the party's over, it's all over) Nineteen ninety-three And this is how we kick it Verse Three: Loot Pack, J-Ro I'ma wreck the neck conducting props like Randy Wrecker The mecca licka mega-hot mega-mike checka Call me diesel to the easel, the weasel, the wacky The packy, the Rikki, Tikki, the Taffy One for the trouble, two for the trouble I gotta get snaps and spit raps on the double On and on to the beat I wreck shop scoop a rumplestil-skin then I'm out, the brother with the clout Be so dead on the loopa, the super-duper wrecka mic checka I roll soul like an old trooper I used to play football, now I'm into rockin My rhyme is the tailback, the track is the blockin My name is J-Ro and I've been waitin for ages To let the world know what I've been writin on the pages I don't smoke sess it's rough on the West OK, I confess, I puff on the stress I rip it when I wreck it, when I mic check it Brothers check the flav, check the Alkaholik record While I flip styles, and rip styles, and hit styles and hit piles for miles of styles, I still pile The flavor flippin funk, bringin diesel be the packer A trooper loop, scoop you like a hula-hoop and smack ya Like you stutter, I ribbedyribbedyribbedyrip styles, I'm comin The Loot Pack, Tha Alkaholiks keepin niggaz runnin Runnin, yeah, do that shit, yeah Turn the party out, yeah yeah Turn the party out, c'mon c'mon Verse Four: E-Swift You think that you can fade this, you must be out to lunch They call me E-Swift, I'm from Tha Alkaholik bunch I just downed a brew, now check out one two It's the Liks baby rockin with the Loot Pack crew Funky like Con-Funk-Shun, more style than Stylistics I got mo' beats than Magic's got assists so raise up off me, or get snatched by the collar The party ain't over till that fat bitch holler I'm in the house so check the way I flow Niggaz say I'm fat, everyday I say I know But my head ain't swoll, I stay down to earth Never gangbang, never claim the turf But I drink a gang of forties, ain't nuttin wrong with that Unless you go buckwild and start bustin off your gat *bang, bang bang* *stumbling* Ay nigga fuck that the party's over man! Everybody get they shit get the fuck out |
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from Tha Alkaholiks - 21 & Over (1993)
[Featuring Threat] Intro: I am Captain of Egor Hahahaha, this nigga is doin impressions! He's doin impressions! Hi Tremaine... Yo Threat, you ready? (yeah) Sup? Verse One: Threat Who is you nigga who is you? I know you from somewhere (where you from) The Zoo Why you got beef with my click, fuck you punk bitch And fuck you too, this is L.A. Zoo And we don't give a mad fuck about you sorry ass suckers Tick tock chrome off that fake gold watch Faster bastard don't make me have to plaster Players, get smoked with my bare hands Got the shit that sway in a wicked way Like Tash and J, motherfuckin Ro hoe Down with E-Swift and the Alkaholik crew And to my homies this Bud's for you Who is dem niggas Verse Two: E-Swift Guess who nigga been down evrysince With the L.A. Zoo, my nigga Threat, Sway, and Tense E motherfuckin Swift ohh I, thought you knew Looted me some glocks in April, Ninety-Two But it's a new day, so make way shortie For the nigge with the brown bag wrapped around the forty Hold up, yo, I said hold up, here he come J motherfuckin Ro and he's buzzin off the rum Verse Three: J-Ro Yo it's the J-Ro fever, catch it I'm prone to grab the microphone and get evil and wreck shit If I hear, one more, nigga kickin up Das EFX shit, I'm bombin, my style is uncommon Peep it, keep it in your brain until the next one My rhyme will lift you up like a muscle when I flex one, two, three, J-Ro is who I be I got more bone than a cemetary Ninety-Three mandingo, I got my own lingo My Mexican homey, told me never trust a gringo But I trust no man, I'm chillin like a snowman I makin lots of dough, and the Liks can rip a show and Freak it, yo E-Swift freak it Won't ya give em up peak after funk when they seek it I used to walk the block with my pops playin poo-tat Now they be like who that, and shit how he do that Chorus: repeat 4X [Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!] -- Busta Rhymes, Scenario Who dem niggas, who dem niggas Verse Four: Tash Tash on the mic makes niggas play the cheap seats I rip shit from Cali to the Valley of the Jeep Beats They call me Uncle Sam cause my skills'll tax all y'all Call y'all [suckas] cause them niggas need to ball y'all Rhyme phat pages up and light em wit ya lighter MC's keep the gifts that's like flies from a spider From the pimp slap, light skin, kid that turns the mics out Diss y'all, crew then turn around and punch your lights out I take to the funk sound man since my pager I kick the kind of shit that make you want to beat your bitch up The nigga, knocker, tipsy off the vodka Tash on the mic floats like a helicopter Stop the, presses, the Liks rock the freshest I'm lookin for the bitches in the tight tight dresses So who them niggas with beats for your ass The Alkaholik crew, peace out, my name is Tash Chorus |
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from Friday (1995)
[Intro:]
From city to city, coast II coast Friday night is the night they like to party the most (We came, to rock, for everybody) From city to city, coast II coast Friday night is the night they like to party the most From city to city, coast II coast (all night y'all) Friday night is the night they like to party the most [Verse One: Tash] (From city to city, coast II coast) I make rappers see more stars than Space Ghost Cause my fiver I kick lyrics make em sound like [walkie talkies] So the poet cracks the Moet while they drink the Old Milwaukee Off the hook with (droppin visions) so the Leo of the trio (Without the sexy voice) scoops more hoes than Theo So I dedicate this rap to all my ghetto spokesmodels Dressin like y'all paid, redeemin Coke bottles So nod to the oddness as the story gets told While I burn these MC's like Rotisierrie Gold Cause you know the reputation of the L-I-K-Ses The crew that wets you with they beer until somebody undresses I bust my shit and peel! Grab my wheels of steel If y'all niggaz can't feel me than y'all niggaz ain't real I hit so hard the WBC Called to ask me could the champ come and train with me Cause my liquidatin flows transpose on niggaroles Individuals, close they eyes, cause I blurred they visuals And I'm about to be as large as Houdini in a minute (Now the party didn't start) Till the Liks walked in it [Chorus:] From city to city, coast II coast Friday night is the night they like to party the most All night y'all (city to city) all night y'all When the Liks is (coast II coast) in the house get hype y'all From city to city, coast II coast Friday night is the night they like to party the most All night y'all (city to city) all night y'all (from coast II coast) The Liks is in the house to make it right y'all [Verse Two: J-Ro] Yeah... check out my Ro-gram Since I was a kid I got darker I write rhymes so phat I need a marker My style gets bit like Peter Parker If imitation is the greatest form of flattery... ...punk don't flatter me I slam you like a pogue on my dog with no fleas and ticks Chicks love them light-skinned rap niggaz called the Liks Youse a wizard, with no tricks, the J-R-O got the spells You never even heard Rock the Bells My cash flows, like a bloody nose It stains all your clothes, and your pill-ows I come from the home of the Rodney King beatin Pacoma CA, Riff Rack is where I'm eatin Your style is like *do Do DOO* out of service The Liks walk in the jam the punk MC's be gettin nervous I never take falls, I got more balls than pre-hauls I flow without flaws to scrape all you sucka paws Never ever find the fool that stole my brew (I'ma do mean, terrible, nasty things to you) Don't lose me, I make a rude bwoy say excuse me If you choose the real shit you can't refuse me Ask your grandpap I bust the dandy rap I be posted in the bar like Andy Capp And I, could, just, go, all, the, way On Friday [Interlude:] Yo whassup baby!!! Yo wasn't that your nigga there performin? Nah nah that wasn't him Yo it was mad niggaz in that piece yo What? What was they mad about? ...Yo kid Kid?!! I'm old enough to be your uncle, heh Anyway, where the BUD at? Sorry we do not drink! What the hell you talkin bout we don't drink I mean the chronic Oh you wanna smoke a L or sumthin? An L? Fuck is that? Man, word Nathin Who the fuck is Nate, tell him It's Iesha, Farrah, and Kath true... [Chorus:] From city to city, coast II coast Friday night is the night they like to party the most And there's so many niggaz on the planet left to rock yo Don't be surprised when we rappin on your block From city to city, coast II coast Friday night is the night they like to party the most To all the hoses and all the third-leggers We comin old school like biscuits and Kreggers [Verse Three: J-Ro, E-Swift, Tash] Yo, first they didn't know me now the hoes be on my Moby But I'm just a nigga kickin me shit like Reggie Roby My name ain't Toby call me J-to the Talk on my cellular telly got a belly like Buddah I ain't Barry Gordy's son but I Rock(s)well When I eat Jamaican food I get the ox tail Get in the bushes with your punk style, you bore us I should kick my foot through your windshield like Chuck Norris I jump out the bushes and ambush your crew Push you and moosh you like a bitch, what you wanna do It's round two nigga I'm showin no love It's like a heavyweight match, but without the gloves You just can't rock a show, you're too quick to fatigue I think you ain't busy since Red was in seas You need to put a little more thought into your writin Your style is Virginia Slim, while mine is Phillie tightened So stop biting what your mouth can't chew A nova eat you but my DJ flow better than you But when I go to set it call the closest paramedic Cause you faker than that motherfuckin jewelry that's cosmetic So hold on to your seats while I rock these beats Cause these are just the repeats of our amazing feats Cause even Kurtis Blow knows we break beats like world records So my style'll hurt you worser than a cut that's infected And we O... W... T... |
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from Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999)
(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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from Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999)
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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from Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999)
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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from Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999)
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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from Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999)
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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from Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999)
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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from Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999)
(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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from Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999)
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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from Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999)
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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from Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999)
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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from Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999)
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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from Tash - Rap Life [Explicit Version] (1999)
(tash) yo, ro'gram where you at homey?
(j-ro) At nighttime I'm on the prowl, and I'm livin foul like blackula Got a microphone made out of chrome shaped like a spatula Cause I'm flippin rhymes at three times the speed of lightning You dare to compare to the golden bear it's kind of frightening You can meditate, til you levitate, but never rate Higher than a seven/eight, yeah I had to set em straight I know you feelin these, I ramsack yo' facilities I'm ill at ease, with these mc's, who ain't got no abilities (get at me) I make mc's, run out like batteries I roll the bleeze and then I blow like cannonball adderly You try to get with likwit but yo' brew ain't cold enough Cold enough You try to get with likwit but yo' brew ain't cold enough Cold enough (tash) Ahhhh, y'all ain't even gotta clue what my clique gon' do Fast money, fast cars, niggaz sleep until two My likwit niggaz roundezous, we cop kung-fus and split em When "the freaks come out at night" catash be right wit em Stone-faced, but only when I'm loaded wit funs Big guns, I'll make you do the nestea plunge I only came to have some fun but I get caught up in the rapture I don't even write lyrics no more, I manufacture Cold shit, you know that old gold shit, that raw shit That drunken alkahol shit that make you say, "ahhh shit!" Them motherf**kers is too slick for michael We be creepin up on you like police on bikes It's the middle of the -- hype, night All the ladies looking -- right, right My likwit niggaz keep it -- tight, tight Rowdy niggaz wanna -- fight, fight It's the middle of the -- hype, night All the ladies looking -- right, right My likwit niggaz keep it.. (e-swift) Me and my niggaz out lookin for a party to crash Mashed out to long beach but we stop for some gas I pull in first, catash pulled in last J-ro steady rollin blunts of the moroccan hash (tash) Since it's all about the cash, we ? ? on that smash Hit up four-five and carson, scoop xzibit and brad The sounds beatin so hard it's vibratin my glass Blast, plus we drivin way too fast (e-swift) Slow down, you can't crash the whip Slow down and hit a dip Cause I paid a lot of money for this ? ? kit We runnin late for a show, we got this money to get The nightlife'll have you caught up in all types of shit (tash) Like what? Like this, like that, like that like this I drink st. ide's, I don't be f**kin with crist' Cause we the type of clique that need to drink somethin stronger When tha liks is in the house, the party last longer (e-swift) I dedicate this song to, bitches and thugs Who party down at the club and show tha liks love Even with creatine, injected in your spleen You couldn't compete with my all-star likwit team (tash) Cause tha liks reign supreme of all hip-hop scenes We heard about your bougie party, bumrushed it in jeans And still pulled the hoes most likely to succeed Where that nigga j-ro? -- most likely smokin weed It's the middle of the -- hype, night All the ladies looking -- right, right My likwit niggaz keep it -- tight, tight Rowdy niggaz wanna -- fight, fight It's the middle of the -- hype, night All the ladies looking -- right, right My likwit niggaz keep it -- tight, tight Rowdy niggaz wanna -- fight, fight (j-ro) Yo, check it out (uh-huh) Turn up the level more so I can hear the shit forever more I came out of nowhere, like predator That's a metaphor, if you rap-impaired, you might say what happened there While the b-boys clap and cheer, bring that beat back in here! Nighttime is the right time to write rhymes Why you wanna bite mine? I blow you away like white lines I think you better let it go, get yo' ass off my pedestal Before you need attention, and it's gonna be medical If rap was basketball I'd have the earl the pearl handles I drink everything but jack daniels Rap scandals, don't interest me, I don't get dressy Tha liks rock the shows but leave the whole crowd messy It's the middle of the -- hype, night All the ladies looking -- right, right My likwit niggaz keep it -- tight, tight Rowdy niggaz wanna -- fight, fight It's the middle of the -- hype, night All the ladies looking -- right, right My likwit niggaz keep it -- tight, tight Rowdy niggaz wanna -- fight, fight |
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| from Funkmaster Flex - The Mix Tape Volume III - 60 Minutes Of Funk - The Final Chapter (2001) | |||||
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| from Digital Master (2011) | |||||
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| from Digital Master (2011) | |||||
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