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You wanna front, what? Jump up and get bucked
If you're feeling lucky duck, then press your luck I snatch fake gangsta MC's and make em faggot flambe Your nine spray, my mind spray Malignant mist steadily pumps the funk The results your remains stuffed in a car trunk You couldn't come to the jungles of the East poppin that game You won't survive, get live, catchin wreck is our thing I don't gang bang or shoot out bang bang The relentless lyrics the only dope I slang I'm a true master you can check my credentials 'Cause I choose to use my infinite potentials Got a freaky, freaky, freaky-freaky flow Control the mic like Fidel Castro Locked cuba So deep that you can scuba Dive/my jive origin is unknown like the Jubas I've accumulated honies all across the map 'Cause I'd rather bust a nut then bust a cap In Ya back in fact my rap snaps ya sacroilliac I'm the mack so i don't need to tote a Mac My attack is purely mental and its nature's not hate It's meant to wake ya up out of ya brainwashed state Stagnate nonsense but if you persist You'll get ya snotbox bust you press up on this I flip hoes dip none of the real niggas slip You don't know enough math to count the mics that I ripped Keep the Dirty Rotten Scoundrel as his verbal weapons spit (Onyx scratched) "Oh oh, heads up, cause we're droppin' some shit" Real rough and rugged, shine like a gold nugget Every time i pick up the microphone i drug it Unplug it on chumps with the gangsta babble Leave your nines at home and bring your skills to the battle You're rattlin' on and on and ain't sayin nothing That's why you got snuffed when you bump heads with Dirty Rotten Have you forgotten, I'll tap your (jaw) I also kick like kung fu flicks by Run Run Shaw Made frauds bleed every time I g'd 'cause I've perfected my drunken style like sam seed Pseudo psychos i play like Michael Jackson when i'm bustin ass and breakin backs In- hale the putrified aroma Breathe too deep and you'll wind up coma- Tose the king I'm hard like a fifth of vodka And bring your clique 'cause I'm a hard rock knocka - I gotcha Out on a limb I'm about to push you off the plank Let you draw your craw but your burner shot blanks When the East is in the house you should come equipped (Onyx scratched) "Oh oh, heads up, cause we're droppin' some shit" Fly like a jet sting like a hornet Knuckleheads get live and set it off if you want it Dirty - Rotten scoundrels is crushin fools no jokes With styles more fatal than second hand smoke Don't provoke the wrath of this rhyme inventor 'Cause I blow up spots like the World Trade Center Come with the super trooper on his assault mission The tech's technique 'cause he's a technician - wishin' He'll go away won't help the weapons stop The skills are shot 'cause any idiot can let off a glock Hard rocks melt in the clutch of the suntoucha You claim you got beef on the streets, so whatcha Gonna do when real niggaz roll up on you And you don't got your crew Pull your glock but you don't got the heart You was webbed straight from the start Bought a tool and didn't learn how to use it Got lost in Brooklyn so you had to lose it Just for frontin you got that ass waxed (Onyx scratched) "Oh oh, heads up, cause we're droppin' some shit" |
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Who wanna have a motherfuckin orgy?
Word is bond word is me Smokin mad blunts and all the fronts and Check it out whatcha want and Go on with slang well get to bang rockin my thang Funkadelic hit you with irrelevant heyyyy Micraphone check I walk around the street with black Tecs and knapsacks I'm known for smokin ass cracks til I get ass flashbacks So all my niggaz if you're fuckin damage let me hear ya you can *bo bo bo bo bo bo bo* now did you catch a victim? HELL NO Come back in to fatten to funky tracks Blast a motherfucker until you're peekin through his back Cause my brain is twisted, funky realistic on the ill shit I rock it til, bitches start givin up that punany Pajamies, up the coochie, pass the clit, pass the loose shit Then BOO-YAA, I gave you another shot of the good shit Don't believe me why your pussy breathin hard enough to pinch the clitoris, dangle it from my cock I don't feel shit So check me the original Joe Pesky freak the sexy I got more Gadgets than the Inspector, go-go jet-skis Then swoop through your troops knock the boots on your cutes Grab you for your loot, wrap my fuckin chain around your tooth Cause, that's the way it goes when Tonight's Da Nite The music feelin Funkadelic and the mood is right I stick the nine between your eyes and blast you outta sight Cause that's the way the knotty-headed nigga, rollin right Blunts by the boxes, I smuggle the chocolate thai to get me high when I ran through more niggaz, than any kid that was adopted Plus an ostrich couldn't swallow my cock, quick cause it's stopped which makes the Soopaman Luva get stockings by the flocks bitch, hrrrahhh So on and on and let me kick the rab That light skinned brother with mad shaft up your fuckin ass You wanna see me get cool, the original rude bwoy, fuck with the new toys Like pistols, I dismiss crews, so order some new boys Blast the funky buddha's lockin ash up in my body For Fozzy Patsi I bring Sad Days to niggaz constant... ..ly! Freak Funkadelic phrases cause I'm true school I'm fuckin Madonna down to Smurfette down one down to M'bufu Funks formatic, the fat shit, the wicked basket from caskets Plus I'm rollin blunts with niggaz ashes Smoke on the choke, light a toke until it's proper I deserve an Oscar for pullin glocks out niggaz mouths cuz I kill like that, plus I roll like that I'm that guy with cerebral-palsy even Bo knows that BUT FUCK THAT, we drop the new runner to get some ganja Goin Uptown, we check Benny Red out, he pulls the smack out Then roll up the bills-nilz, or better yet the pute the loo-pay, rank near my nost to rock the block Hittin niggaz upside the head with rocks in socks, glock on cock Back, trigger-hap, P P P rockin that unity Motherfucker! Yeah yeah motherfuckers, it's on it's on it's on Throw your hands in the air, and wave em like you just don't care And if you haven't been fucked, by the Soopaman Luva Let me hear you say, oh yeahhyeah! Oh yeahhyeah! Funkadelic, hit you with the irrelevant facts and max, and on and on my crew pull gats Flick slaps em back, come on and fuckin up tracks Kick the mad wicked, bricks to stick it Come on and, I get Wilson like Pickett then stick it She wanna check me when I'm lickin your ass And lickin ya down to your clitoris Do you remember this, bitch, I know you're kinda hearin this Style that I'm kickin, yes I'm mad wicked Funkadelic, runs the mad train up your anus! Baby, cause I'm famous! Nope, I didn't mean that The mean fat black fat tracks and old dreams at I'm all teen strapped, sports a bean hat Want to rhyme to be down, but homey ain't gonna bean that |
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I'm your idol, the highest title, numero uno
I'm not a Puerto Rican, but I'm speakin' so that you know And understand I got the gift of speech And it's a blessin, so listen to the lesson I preach I talk sense condensed into the form of a poem Full of knowledge from my toes to the top of my dome I'm kinda young--but my tongue speaks maturity I'm not a child, I don't need nothin for security I get paid when my record is played--to put it short I got it made I'm outspoken, my language is broken into a slang But it's just a dialect that I select when I hang I play it cool--cuz coolin is all that I'm about just foolin wit tha girlies, yes I'm bustin it out I'm Special Ed and you can tell by the style that I use I'm creatively superior, yo--I never lose I never lost cuz I'm the boss I never will cuz I'm still the champion, chief one, won't lose until-- I choose which I won't cuz I don't retreat I'll run you over like a truck and leave you dead in the street You're invitin me, a titan to a battle--why? I don't need your respect cuz I-- got it made I'm talented, yes I'm gifted Never boosted, never shoplifted I got the cash, but money ain't nothin' make a million dollars every record that I cut and-- My name is Special Ed and I'm a super-duper star Every other month I get a brand new car Got twenty, that's plenty yet I still want more kinda fond of honda scooters--got seventy-four I got the riches--to fulfill my needs Got land in the sand of the West Indies Even got a little island of my very own-- I gotta frog--a dog with a solid gold bone An accountant to account the amount I spent Gotta treaty with Tahiti cuz I own a percent Got gear out wear--to everyday Boutiques from France to the U.S.A. And I make all the money from the rhymes I invent So it really doesn't matter--how much I spent, because, yo I make fresh rhymes--daily you burn me--really? Think, just blink and I made--a million rhymes Just imagine if you blinked-- a million times Damn I'd be paid-- I got it made I'm kinda spoiled, 'cause everything I want I got made I wanted gear--got everything from cotton to suede I wanted lead--I didn't beg I just got laid My hair was growin too long, so I got me a fade And when my dishes got dirty, I got Cascade And when the weather was hot, I got a spot in the shade I'm wise because I rise to the top of my grade Wanted peace on Earth, so to God I prayed Some kids across town thought I was afraid They couldn't harm me, I got the army brigade I'm not a trader, if what you got is greater I'll trade but maybe later cuz my waiter made potato -n- alligator souflee-- I got it made |
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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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Verse One: Treach
Hey, you could smoke a spliff with a cliff But there's still no mountain hiiiigh enough, or wide enough to touch The naughty nappy nasty nigga the nasty trashy hoe happy pappy That's Happi to be Nappi Me and Vin rock when spots hit flocks and groups and troops with Timbo boots and jail suits That's how I'm rollin my hair-do don't Win I will I got wantin competition ain't dope Beat ya break ya broke ya smoke ya take ya Send you to your little group on mute, sooner or later When wanna flip, tell em full semi half with a dip And all that other Ringling Brothers shit Sporty naughty hi bye greater than nature while I shin slam the flim flim and then jam You can run but you can't hide, you can't go far No matter where you go, there you are Chorus: repeat 2X We gonna BREAK, we gonna BASH We gonna ROLL, we gonna SMASH Verse Two: Treach, Vinnie Here we go yo Hit a nigga kill a nigga will come back See a sucker stretch a sucker guard your naps Cussin wasn't nothin til a black man rapped See a forty suck a forty guess who's back You're chillin with a Teddy fillin villian Steppin to the puny puddy punks catchin fillings I hit so many guts, call me gutter, I'm the bread and butter punk motherfucker I'll cut up, workin from the gut up Brand new steady, heavy as a Chevy Ready for the piddy peddy, I'm Friddie Freddie Place your bet on a vet, the three man threat What you see is what you get Chorus Verse Three: Treach Comin round your corner with my uptown bunch I bet your bottom dollar that you're bottom buck chumps Give it up, it's a juice thing I'm steppin for the rep and wreckin all the rest and, weapon testin on who's steppin Ain't no bluff for the niggy nuff, for the rugged ruff stuff nigga if you're tough knuckle up I'll cut your ass like class, then blast you by the trash After I laugh then I'll dash You can't handle the scandal of an uptown vandal Shootin up your toes makin sandals Somebody told me that you owe me, but can't nobody hold me I do my dirt all by my lonely Chorus |
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You Gots to Chill... Verse 1 [E Double E] Relax your mind let your conscience be free And get down to the sounds of EPMD Oh you should keep quiet while the MC rap But if you're tired then go take a nap Or stay awake and watch the show I take Because right now I'm 'bout to shake'n'bake The E R I C K is my name I spell Things to the clientele yo I rock well I'm not an MC who' talkin' all that junk About who can beat who, soundin' like a punk I just get down and I go for mine Say "Check 1-2" and run down a line [Pee MD] To the average MC I'm known as The Terminator Funky beat maker, new jack exterminator Destroyin' a ploy when your rhymes are not void Never sweatin' your girl (Why P?) Cos she's a skeezoid When I'm on the scene I always rock the spot I grab the steel with the crown on the top In the beginnin' I like to let my rhymes flow And at twelve I press cruise control Sit back and relax, let my rhymes tax Maintain MC's while the Double E macks Always calm under pressure, no need to act ill Listen when I tell you boy, you gots to chill... Verse 2 [E Double E] I be the personal computer, information on rap Like the B-I-Z Markie says, I'll make your toes tap I format the rhymes step by step Make 'em sound def to maintain my rep Prepared to come off in case of a diss Not worried about a thing, cos we can do this I can turn the party out just by standin' still Make the ladies scream and shout while the brothers act ill Take total control of your body and soul Pack a nine in my pants for when it's time to roll [Pee MD] I'm the P-double-E M-D-E-E And one thing I hate is a bitin' MC When I enter the party suckers always form a line Then they ease their way up and try to bite my lines I did thousands of shows, dissed many faces And deal with new jacks on a one-to-one basis But every now and then a sucker MC gets courageous And like an epidemic it becomes contagious But never the least they all R.I.P For all those unaware it means Rest In Peace Cos M.D stands for Microphone Doctor And the capital P, capital M, capital D-E-E's no doubt the chief rocker Don't like to get ill, but if I have to I kill So believe me boy, you gots to chill... Verse 3 [E Double E] Catch every word I'm sayin', no there's no delayin' Don't hestitate to motivate the crowd, I'm not playin' Seeing is believing, you catch my drift? Don't try to adapt because I'm just too swift (How swift?) I'm so swift and that's an actual fact I'm like Zorro, I mark a E on your back I don't swing on no ropes or no iron cords The only weapon is my rappin' sword [Pee MD] Intimidate MC's with the tone of my vocal drone When I'm pushin' on the microphone Cos I'm the funky rhyme maker, MC undertaker The one who likes to max and relax And, when it's time, issue diggum-smacks I keep their hands clappin', fingers snappin', feet tappin' When it's time to roll Uzi patrol's packin' The Pee MD, the mic's my only friend And through the course of the party I kill again and again So if you're thinkin' 'bout battlin' you better come prepared Come wit' your shield and your armoured gear You gots to chill... Outro [E Double E] DJ La Boss... [Pee MD] ...takes no shorts |
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Educated man, from the motherland
You see, they call me a star but that's not what I am I'm a jungle brother, a true, blue brother And I've been to many places you'll never discover Step to my side, suckers run and hide Africa's in the house, they get petrified You wanna know why, I'll tell you why Because they can't stand the soght of the jungle eye They never fight or fuss, they never curse or cuss They just stand on the side and stare at us They get out of line, I put 'em on a vine And give 'em one big push for all mankind There ain't nuttin to it, I just go head and do it And lay down the jungle sound and run right through it And when I'm on the mic, I never stutter or stumble 'Cause I'm a Jungle Brother, straight out the jungle Cool and quiet, but quick to start up a riot I write the rhyme, bums assist to bite it I wear no gold around my neck just black medallions And sold the home of true black stallions I don't care for fair 'cause fair-fair's meat Out of 10 ways of dying, the first might cheat I'm harder than the hardest, hardest hard can get Africa and I, while Sammy B's on the set I kick the rhyme to the girl and she became my pet I lend some sucker some juice and now he's still in debt The sucker said, he wasn't scared, but still in all he sweat A poor man became rich because some meeky bet My brother's searching high and low, they'll looking for me Where will they find me, in the J-U-N-G-L-E *It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under* [sample from Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five:The Message] *It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under* *It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under* *It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under* Struggle to live (struggle to live) struggle to survive Struggle (struggle) just to stay alive 'Cause inside the jungle, either you do or you die You got to be aware, you got to have the jungle eye Take it from a brother who knows my friend The animals, the cannibals will do you in Cut your throat (cut your throat) stab you in the back The untamed animal just don't know how to act It's unbelievable (unbelievable) uncivilized (ci-civilized) And now I'm starting to realize Danger in the jungle, the jungle means danger (danger) Tension intense, hearts filled wit anger (anger) Men killing men just because of one's color In this lifetime, I've seen nothing dumber So I think before I make a move Make sure my rhyme goes along wit the groove And backing on a brother it's time to rumble My name's Mike G (Mike G) and I'm straight out the jungle |
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Shining Star!
Intro : Ol' Dirty Bastard Yeah, knah I'm sayin'? This is what you call making history right here The Fifth Element Earth, Wind, Fire, Sunz Of Man knah i'm sayin'? We got the Wu-Tang Clan in the house, knah i'm sayin'? ODB Yo Wyclef play the guitar man! The earth is approximately covered underwater ? street walks for surfers The sun & moon had attract the power while it's on it's way around the sun Verse 1: Ol' Dirty Bastard I'm the Eddie Kane of the Wu-Tang Osirus with the fire-extinguisher slang Maintain this paradise on this earth With the shut the fuck up style For what this shit is worth Watch a nigga catch a purse Super-hero niggas die Do my dirt, get away and multiply Verse 2: Hey yo entrepeneur wisdom ? who The dark kahlua, the black sire Smack fire out of the liar My heart desire Speak truth and light this fire The clever writer, not lia, never retire The child teacher, mouth speaker, earth seeker, wind blower To the seas I'm like Noah Chorus (2x): Earth Wind & Fire You're my Shining Star, no matter who you are Shining bright to see, no matter who's with me Verse 3: Uh, hey yo this masterpiece be exclusive and fascinating Street knowledge education Teach the seeds son no procrascinatin' Ghetto learnin' graduatin' Blessed be the ones with patience from the ancient God bless the child that could hold his own Little shorties don't trust a soul it's all globe control Earth Wind & Fire, Sunz Of Man, and Wyclef We connect like unanex and bring the intelect We teach both sex, Brooklyn to Tibet, male or female Who follow footsteps and correct Verse 4: I'm a Shining Star, beam of light from out far Hits like these would burn holes through our resevoir Espionage, let it be known who take charge Come hard with the underground like camouflage Keep it bizarre, mainstream for the young teens Though if it don't be for clearance till 13 Chorus (2x): Earth Wind & Fire You're my Shining Star, no matter who you are Shining bright to see, no matter who's with me Verse 5: Escapin' the ghetto Using the bass tempo or treble In the streets we carry heavy metal Roll with the devil Yo son life is reality, reality is life People livin' trife, the world filled with strife The god's livin' right in this act too many lack Black on black crime No vest, another nigga laid to rest Verse 5: 62nd Assassin It's been a long time The beat's certain Sunz of Man behind deens of wall searchin' The heat is perkin' Earth Wind & Fire burnin' Sensation yearnin' and learnin' situation Wyclef platinum hits Beach nation is what your life could truly be anticipation Chorus (2x): Earth Wind & Fire You're my Shining Star, no matter who you are Shining bright to see, no matter who's with me Verse 6: Ol' Dirty Bastard Yo, yo, yo, yo, when I was young i taught how to produce The science of babies gettin' loose I turn white boys to Springsteins' Bruce Blacks to blues To the Chinese I gave Bruce I can't help it if my style is foggy Words to boogie getcha high on my patio Or come to see me movie Girls your walking on my dirt I'm all in ya hair Or mike your life plane call hurt Verse 6: To all my shining stars From here to L.A. to Mars Growin' up in the ghetto where times is hard No matter who ya are You a child or God Born as a king not a slave for jobs It's much more to life then to drink at bars Large bank accounts and these fancy cars Little King Tut's scheemin' when they lust They get handcuffed for diamiond ring cuts Chorus (repeat till end): Earth Wind & Fire You're my Shining Star, no matter who you are Shining bright to see, no matter who's with me |
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Basically, can't fuck with me
<i>[Verse One:]</i> I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental's based on instrumental records hey, so I can write monumental Methods, I'm not the King But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM check it, just how deep can shit get Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I'm the dark side of the Force Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin at me bruh, now bust it Styles, I gets buckwild Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy Out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze <i>[Chorus:]</i> Is it real son, is it really real son Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real <i>[Interlude: Booster]</i> And when I was a lil stereo (stereo) I listened to some champion (champion) I always wondered (wondered) Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha) Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!) And de gargon summary And any man dat come test me (test me) Me gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that) <i>[Verse Two:]</i> Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke off the set comin to your projects Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the four nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo' What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me* Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you <i>[horn sound of car racing by]</i> <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Outro:]</i> I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off and make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills You motherfuckers (So??) So fuck the hoe Fuck the hoe (Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...) |
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You Gots to Chill... Verse 1 [E Double E] Relax your mind let your conscience be free And get down to the sounds of EPMD Oh you should keep quiet while the MC rap But if you're tired then go take a nap Or stay awake and watch the show I take Because right now I'm 'bout to shake'n'bake The E R I C K is my name I spell Things to the clientele yo I rock well I'm not an MC who' talkin' all that junk About who can beat who, soundin' like a punk I just get down and I go for mine Say "Check 1-2" and run down a line [Pee MD] To the average MC I'm known as The Terminator Funky beat maker, new jack exterminator Destroyin' a ploy when your rhymes are not void Never sweatin' your girl (Why P?) Cos she's a skeezoid When I'm on the scene I always rock the spot I grab the steel with the crown on the top In the beginnin' I like to let my rhymes flow And at twelve I press cruise control Sit back and relax, let my rhymes tax Maintain MC's while the Double E macks Always calm under pressure, no need to act ill Listen when I tell you boy, you gots to chill... Verse 2 [E Double E] I be the personal computer, information on rap Like the B-I-Z Markie says, I'll make your toes tap I format the rhymes step by step Make 'em sound def to maintain my rep Prepared to come off in case of a diss Not worried about a thing, cos we can do this I can turn the party out just by standin' still Make the ladies scream and shout while the brothers act ill Take total control of your body and soul Pack a nine in my pants for when it's time to roll [Pee MD] I'm the P-double-E M-D-E-E And one thing I hate is a bitin' MC When I enter the party suckers always form a line Then they ease their way up and try to bite my lines I did thousands of shows, dissed many faces And deal with new jacks on a one-to-one basis But every now and then a sucker MC gets courageous And like an epidemic it becomes contagious But never the least they all R.I.P For all those unaware it means Rest In Peace Cos M.D stands for Microphone Doctor And the capital P, capital M, capital D-E-E's no doubt the chief rocker Don't like to get ill, but if I have to I kill So believe me boy, you gots to chill... Verse 3 [E Double E] Catch every word I'm sayin', no there's no delayin' Don't hestitate to motivate the crowd, I'm not playin' Seeing is believing, you catch my drift? Don't try to adapt because I'm just too swift (How swift?) I'm so swift and that's an actual fact I'm like Zorro, I mark a E on your back I don't swing on no ropes or no iron cords The only weapon is my rappin' sword [Pee MD] Intimidate MC's with the tone of my vocal drone When I'm pushin' on the microphone Cos I'm the funky rhyme maker, MC undertaker The one who likes to max and relax And, when it's time, issue diggum-smacks I keep their hands clappin', fingers snappin', feet tappin' When it's time to roll Uzi patrol's packin' The Pee MD, the mic's my only friend And through the course of the party I kill again and again So if you're thinkin' 'bout battlin' you better come prepared Come wit' your shield and your armoured gear You gots to chill... Outro [E Double E] DJ La Boss... [Pee MD] ...takes no shorts |
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Who wanna have a motherfuckin orgy?
Word is bond word is me Smokin mad blunts and all the fronts and Check it out whatcha want and Go on with slang well get to bang rockin my thang Funkadelic hit you with irrelevant heyyyy Micraphone check I walk around the street with black Tecs and knapsacks I'm known for smokin ass cracks til I get ass flashbacks So all my niggaz if you're fuckin damage let me hear ya you can *bo bo bo bo bo bo bo* now did you catch a victim? HELL NO Come back in to fatten to funky tracks Blast a motherfucker until you're peekin through his back Cause my brain is twisted, funky realistic on the ill shit I rock it til, bitches start givin up that punany Pajamies, up the coochie, pass the clit, pass the loose shit Then BOO-YAA, I gave you another shot of the good shit Don't believe me why your pussy breathin hard enough to pinch the clitoris, dangle it from my cock I don't feel shit So check me the original Joe Pesky freak the sexy I got more Gadgets than the Inspector, go-go jet-skis Then swoop through your troops knock the boots on your cutes Grab you for your loot, wrap my fuckin chain around your tooth Cause, that's the way it goes when Tonight's Da Nite The music feelin Funkadelic and the mood is right I stick the nine between your eyes and blast you outta sight Cause that's the way the knotty-headed nigga, rollin right Blunts by the boxes, I smuggle the chocolate thai to get me high when I ran through more niggaz, than any kid that was adopted Plus an ostrich couldn't swallow my cock, quick cause it's stopped which makes the Soopaman Luva get stockings by the flocks bitch, hrrrahhh So on and on and let me kick the rab That light skinned brother with mad shaft up your fuckin ass You wanna see me get cool, the original rude bwoy, fuck with the new toys Like pistols, I dismiss crews, so order some new boys Blast the funky buddha's lockin ash up in my body For Fozzy Patsi I bring Sad Days to niggaz constant... ..ly! Freak Funkadelic phrases cause I'm true school I'm fuckin Madonna down to Smurfette down one down to M'bufu Funks formatic, the fat shit, the wicked basket from caskets Plus I'm rollin blunts with niggaz ashes Smoke on the choke, light a toke until it's proper I deserve an Oscar for pullin glocks out niggaz mouths cuz I kill like that, plus I roll like that I'm that guy with cerebral-palsy even Bo knows that BUT FUCK THAT, we drop the new runner to get some ganja Goin Uptown, we check Benny Red out, he pulls the smack out Then roll up the bills-nilz, or better yet the pute the loo-pay, rank near my nost to rock the block Hittin niggaz upside the head with rocks in socks, glock on cock Back, trigger-hap, P P P rockin that unity Motherfucker! Yeah yeah motherfuckers, it's on it's on it's on Throw your hands in the air, and wave em like you just don't care And if you haven't been fucked, by the Soopaman Luva Let me hear you say, oh yeahhyeah! Oh yeahhyeah! Funkadelic, hit you with the irrelevant facts and max, and on and on my crew pull gats Flick slaps em back, come on and fuckin up tracks Kick the mad wicked, bricks to stick it Come on and, I get Wilson like Pickett then stick it She wanna check me when I'm lickin your ass And lickin ya down to your clitoris Do you remember this, bitch, I know you're kinda hearin this Style that I'm kickin, yes I'm mad wicked Funkadelic, runs the mad train up your anus! Baby, cause I'm famous! Nope, I didn't mean that The mean fat black fat tracks and old dreams at I'm all teen strapped, sports a bean hat Want to rhyme to be down, but homey ain't gonna bean that |
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Shining Star!
Intro : Ol' Dirty Bastard Yeah, knah I'm sayin'? This is what you call making history right here The Fifth Element Earth, Wind, Fire, Sunz Of Man knah i'm sayin'? We got the Wu-Tang Clan in the house, knah i'm sayin'? ODB Yo Wyclef play the guitar man! The earth is approximately covered underwater ? street walks for surfers The sun & moon had attract the power while it's on it's way around the sun Verse 1: Ol' Dirty Bastard I'm the Eddie Kane of the Wu-Tang Osirus with the fire-extinguisher slang Maintain this paradise on this earth With the shut the fuck up style For what this shit is worth Watch a nigga catch a purse Super-hero niggas die Do my dirt, get away and multiply Verse 2: Hey yo entrepeneur wisdom ? who The dark kahlua, the black sire Smack fire out of the liar My heart desire Speak truth and light this fire The clever writer, not lia, never retire The child teacher, mouth speaker, earth seeker, wind blower To the seas I'm like Noah Chorus (2x): Earth Wind & Fire You're my Shining Star, no matter who you are Shining bright to see, no matter who's with me Verse 3: Uh, hey yo this masterpiece be exclusive and fascinating Street knowledge education Teach the seeds son no procrascinatin' Ghetto learnin' graduatin' Blessed be the ones with patience from the ancient God bless the child that could hold his own Little shorties don't trust a soul it's all globe control Earth Wind & Fire, Sunz Of Man, and Wyclef We connect like unanex and bring the intelect We teach both sex, Brooklyn to Tibet, male or female Who follow footsteps and correct Verse 4: I'm a Shining Star, beam of light from out far Hits like these would burn holes through our resevoir Espionage, let it be known who take charge Come hard with the underground like camouflage Keep it bizarre, mainstream for the young teens Though if it don't be for clearance till 13 Chorus (2x): Earth Wind & Fire You're my Shining Star, no matter who you are Shining bright to see, no matter who's with me Verse 5: Escapin' the ghetto Using the bass tempo or treble In the streets we carry heavy metal Roll with the devil Yo son life is reality, reality is life People livin' trife, the world filled with strife The god's livin' right in this act too many lack Black on black crime No vest, another nigga laid to rest Verse 5: 62nd Assassin It's been a long time The beat's certain Sunz of Man behind deens of wall searchin' The heat is perkin' Earth Wind & Fire burnin' Sensation yearnin' and learnin' situation Wyclef platinum hits Beach nation is what your life could truly be anticipation Chorus (2x): Earth Wind & Fire You're my Shining Star, no matter who you are Shining bright to see, no matter who's with me Verse 6: Ol' Dirty Bastard Yo, yo, yo, yo, when I was young i taught how to produce The science of babies gettin' loose I turn white boys to Springsteins' Bruce Blacks to blues To the Chinese I gave Bruce I can't help it if my style is foggy Words to boogie getcha high on my patio Or come to see me movie Girls your walking on my dirt I'm all in ya hair Or mike your life plane call hurt Verse 6: To all my shining stars From here to L.A. to Mars Growin' up in the ghetto where times is hard No matter who ya are You a child or God Born as a king not a slave for jobs It's much more to life then to drink at bars Large bank accounts and these fancy cars Little King Tut's scheemin' when they lust They get handcuffed for diamiond ring cuts Chorus (repeat till end): Earth Wind & Fire You're my Shining Star, no matter who you are Shining bright to see, no matter who's with me |
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I'm your idol, the highest title, numero uno
I'm not a Puerto Rican, but I'm speakin' so that you know And understand I got the gift of speech And it's a blessin, so listen to the lesson I preach I talk sense condensed into the form of a poem Full of knowledge from my toes to the top of my dome I'm kinda young--but my tongue speaks maturity I'm not a child, I don't need nothin for security I get paid when my record is played--to put it short I got it made I'm outspoken, my language is broken into a slang But it's just a dialect that I select when I hang I play it cool--cuz coolin is all that I'm about just foolin wit tha girlies, yes I'm bustin it out I'm Special Ed and you can tell by the style that I use I'm creatively superior, yo--I never lose I never lost cuz I'm the boss I never will cuz I'm still the champion, chief one, won't lose until-- I choose which I won't cuz I don't retreat I'll run you over like a truck and leave you dead in the street You're invitin me, a titan to a battle--why? I don't need your respect cuz I-- got it made I'm talented, yes I'm gifted Never boosted, never shoplifted I got the cash, but money ain't nothin' make a million dollars every record that I cut and-- My name is Special Ed and I'm a super-duper star Every other month I get a brand new car Got twenty, that's plenty yet I still want more kinda fond of honda scooters--got seventy-four I got the riches--to fulfill my needs Got land in the sand of the West Indies Even got a little island of my very own-- I gotta frog--a dog with a solid gold bone An accountant to account the amount I spent Gotta treaty with Tahiti cuz I own a percent Got gear out wear--to everyday Boutiques from France to the U.S.A. And I make all the money from the rhymes I invent So it really doesn't matter--how much I spent, because, yo I make fresh rhymes--daily you burn me--really? Think, just blink and I made--a million rhymes Just imagine if you blinked-- a million times Damn I'd be paid-- I got it made I'm kinda spoiled, 'cause everything I want I got made I wanted gear--got everything from cotton to suede I wanted lead--I didn't beg I just got laid My hair was growin too long, so I got me a fade And when my dishes got dirty, I got Cascade And when the weather was hot, I got a spot in the shade I'm wise because I rise to the top of my grade Wanted peace on Earth, so to God I prayed Some kids across town thought I was afraid They couldn't harm me, I got the army brigade I'm not a trader, if what you got is greater I'll trade but maybe later cuz my waiter made potato -n- alligator souflee-- I got it made |
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Educated man, from the motherland
You see, they call me a star but that's not what I am I'm a jungle brother, a true, blue brother And I've been to many places you'll never discover Step to my side, suckers run and hide Africa's in the house, they get petrified You wanna know why, I'll tell you why Because they can't stand the soght of the jungle eye They never fight or fuss, they never curse or cuss They just stand on the side and stare at us They get out of line, I put 'em on a vine And give 'em one big push for all mankind There ain't nuttin to it, I just go head and do it And lay down the jungle sound and run right through it And when I'm on the mic, I never stutter or stumble 'Cause I'm a Jungle Brother, straight out the jungle Cool and quiet, but quick to start up a riot I write the rhyme, bums assist to bite it I wear no gold around my neck just black medallions And sold the home of true black stallions I don't care for fair 'cause fair-fair's meat Out of 10 ways of dying, the first might cheat I'm harder than the hardest, hardest hard can get Africa and I, while Sammy B's on the set I kick the rhyme to the girl and she became my pet I lend some sucker some juice and now he's still in debt The sucker said, he wasn't scared, but still in all he sweat A poor man became rich because some meeky bet My brother's searching high and low, they'll looking for me Where will they find me, in the J-U-N-G-L-E *It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under* [sample from Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five:The Message] *It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under* *It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under* *It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under* Struggle to live (struggle to live) struggle to survive Struggle (struggle) just to stay alive 'Cause inside the jungle, either you do or you die You got to be aware, you got to have the jungle eye Take it from a brother who knows my friend The animals, the cannibals will do you in Cut your throat (cut your throat) stab you in the back The untamed animal just don't know how to act It's unbelievable (unbelievable) uncivilized (ci-civilized) And now I'm starting to realize Danger in the jungle, the jungle means danger (danger) Tension intense, hearts filled wit anger (anger) Men killing men just because of one's color In this lifetime, I've seen nothing dumber So I think before I make a move Make sure my rhyme goes along wit the groove And backing on a brother it's time to rumble My name's Mike G (Mike G) and I'm straight out the jungle |
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You wanna front, what? Jump up and get bucked
If you're feeling lucky duck, then press your luck I snatch fake gangsta MC's and make em faggot flambe Your nine spray, my mind spray Malignant mist steadily pumps the funk The results your remains stuffed in a car trunk You couldn't come to the jungles of the East poppin that game You won't survive, get live, catchin wreck is our thing I don't gang bang or shoot out bang bang The relentless lyrics the only dope I slang I'm a true master you can check my credentials 'Cause I choose to use my infinite potentials Got a freaky, freaky, freaky-freaky flow Control the mic like Fidel Castro Locked cuba So deep that you can scuba Dive/my jive origin is unknown like the Jubas I've accumulated honies all across the map 'Cause I'd rather bust a nut then bust a cap In Ya back in fact my rap snaps ya sacroilliac I'm the mack so i don't need to tote a Mac My attack is purely mental and its nature's not hate It's meant to wake ya up out of ya brainwashed state Stagnate nonsense but if you persist You'll get ya snotbox bust you press up on this I flip hoes dip none of the real niggas slip You don't know enough math to count the mics that I ripped Keep the Dirty Rotten Scoundrel as his verbal weapons spit (Onyx scratched) "Oh oh, heads up, cause we're droppin' some shit" Real rough and rugged, shine like a gold nugget Every time i pick up the microphone i drug it Unplug it on chumps with the gangsta babble Leave your nines at home and bring your skills to the battle You're rattlin' on and on and ain't sayin nothing That's why you got snuffed when you bump heads with Dirty Rotten Have you forgotten, I'll tap your (jaw) I also kick like kung fu flicks by Run Run Shaw Made frauds bleed every time I g'd 'cause I've perfected my drunken style like sam seed Pseudo psychos i play like Michael Jackson when i'm bustin ass and breakin backs In- hale the putrified aroma Breathe too deep and you'll wind up coma- Tose the king I'm hard like a fifth of vodka And bring your clique 'cause I'm a hard rock knocka - I gotcha Out on a limb I'm about to push you off the plank Let you draw your craw but your burner shot blanks When the East is in the house you should come equipped (Onyx scratched) "Oh oh, heads up, cause we're droppin' some shit" Fly like a jet sting like a hornet Knuckleheads get live and set it off if you want it Dirty - Rotten scoundrels is crushin fools no jokes With styles more fatal than second hand smoke Don't provoke the wrath of this rhyme inventor 'Cause I blow up spots like the World Trade Center Come with the super trooper on his assault mission The tech's technique 'cause he's a technician - wishin' He'll go away won't help the weapons stop The skills are shot 'cause any idiot can let off a glock Hard rocks melt in the clutch of the suntoucha You claim you got beef on the streets, so whatcha Gonna do when real niggaz roll up on you And you don't got your crew Pull your glock but you don't got the heart You was webbed straight from the start Bought a tool and didn't learn how to use it Got lost in Brooklyn so you had to lose it Just for frontin you got that ass waxed (Onyx scratched) "Oh oh, heads up, cause we're droppin' some shit" |
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At this time, please extinguish all smoking materials
Return all seat backs, and tray tables to their most upright, and long position Also at this time please take care to fasten your seatbelt Enjoy your stay, welcome to L.A. Chorus: Xzibit Welcome to L.A. Where you can see the whole city burning Cause the cops got uzis and the dealers keep serving and your kids ain't learning shit, except this Sex power and wealth, fuck everything else (repeat 2X except last line) Trying to survive, Los Angeles Times Verse One: Xzibit MC's get fucked up, chopped like Braveheart Don't start what you can't finish, serious bidness Down La Seneca to bust a left on Venice where you can find me and mines -- Los Angeles Times Welcome to L.A. Where every other day I'm taking the hat off my head Givin respect to the dead, and avoid havin the same thing said about me, Xzibit stand underground like the roots of a tree, watered three times a day Forty ounce Olde E, like a magnifying glass making it easier to see, the Mister X to the Z Don't peak, L.A., why test without vest-es stop lead projectile, Apocalypse Now Love Allah not new car, faggot, superstar type of cat, fuck that, mash away in a diamond-white Concourse 'Llac Still black so the one-time react as if under attack Ain't nothin changed but district range, feel no pain Mr. Big Bad Insane Black John McClane with liquor on the brain, down to earth like dirt From the city where niggaz known for puttin in work Chorus Verse Two: Xzibit Welcome to L.A. If hand determine dick size, I'm palmin the Earth Select turf, then plant bad seed and give birth And make the hard work look easy fuh sheezee Leavin you and your best man, stiffer than mannequins Enough to break the skin on a Vietnam leatherneck Marine drill sargeant, you nothin but a target (pow!) Charge it to the game, gotta look beyond the brand name Comin from the guts like I slammed down twenty cups of Hennesey straight, relate feel my hate Xzibit flippin through these bitches like DJ trait Translate to left field, only real niggaz follow Bitches suck and swallow, I'm livin life behind the bottle Never the role model, still shinin like a new automobile Flow six-fo', you can't steal cause I got a kill switch with a itch for the action While other rappers use mass weapons of destruction to sell they shit Chorus Verse Three: Xzibit El ve-te-rano, you can only pray to learn what I know Ride slow across the horizon a lone desperado Comin through the door bringin nothin but hits Sometimes I feel like a matador, lookin at this bullshit Niggaz pull rent from the crack of they ass Maintain do your thang this too shall pass I season beef with lead pieces then cook it with gas I'm from the school of hard knocks way ahead in the class Xzibit hard to get through, like bulletproof glass Break it down like Johnny Cochran then mix it with hash Your defense can't last against advanced prosecution Hit the airwaves like pollution -- hey, here's a solution Take a trip to Washington then burn the Constitution Top government officials locked down for prostitution Recruitin the hard rocks mean streets keep producin The world is a riot shit is mine for the lootin Chorus Everyone's got to make a living (2X) Chorus Enjoy your stay, welcome to L.A |
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Verse One: Treach
Hey, you could smoke a spliff with a cliff But there's still no mountain hiiiigh enough, or wide enough to touch The naughty nappy nasty nigga the nasty trashy hoe happy pappy That's Happi to be Nappi Me and Vin rock when spots hit flocks and groups and troops with Timbo boots and jail suits That's how I'm rollin my hair-do don't Win I will I got wantin competition ain't dope Beat ya break ya broke ya smoke ya take ya Send you to your little group on mute, sooner or later When wanna flip, tell em full semi half with a dip And all that other Ringling Brothers shit Sporty naughty hi bye greater than nature while I shin slam the flim flim and then jam You can run but you can't hide, you can't go far No matter where you go, there you are Chorus: repeat 2X We gonna BREAK, we gonna BASH We gonna ROLL, we gonna SMASH Verse Two: Treach, Vinnie Here we go yo Hit a nigga kill a nigga will come back See a sucker stretch a sucker guard your naps Cussin wasn't nothin til a black man rapped See a forty suck a forty guess who's back You're chillin with a Teddy fillin villian Steppin to the puny puddy punks catchin fillings I hit so many guts, call me gutter, I'm the bread and butter punk motherfucker I'll cut up, workin from the gut up Brand new steady, heavy as a Chevy Ready for the piddy peddy, I'm Friddie Freddie Place your bet on a vet, the three man threat What you see is what you get Chorus Verse Three: Treach Comin round your corner with my uptown bunch I bet your bottom dollar that you're bottom buck chumps Give it up, it's a juice thing I'm steppin for the rep and wreckin all the rest and, weapon testin on who's steppin Ain't no bluff for the niggy nuff, for the rugged ruff stuff nigga if you're tough knuckle up I'll cut your ass like class, then blast you by the trash After I laugh then I'll dash You can't handle the scandal of an uptown vandal Shootin up your toes makin sandals Somebody told me that you owe me, but can't nobody hold me I do my dirt all by my lonely Chorus |
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Basically, can't fuck with me
<i>[Verse One:]</i> I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental's based on instrumental records hey, so I can write monumental Methods, I'm not the King But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM check it, just how deep can shit get Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I'm the dark side of the Force Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin at me bruh, now bust it Styles, I gets buckwild Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy Out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze <i>[Chorus:]</i> Is it real son, is it really real son Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real <i>[Interlude: Booster]</i> And when I was a lil stereo (stereo) I listened to some champion (champion) I always wondered (wondered) Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha) Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!) And de gargon summary And any man dat come test me (test me) Me gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that) <i>[Verse Two:]</i> Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke off the set comin to your projects Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the four nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo' What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me* Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you <i>[horn sound of car racing by]</i> <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Outro:]</i> I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off and make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills You motherfuckers (So??) So fuck the hoe Fuck the hoe (Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...) |
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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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