Tha Alkaholiks - Coast Ii Coast (1999) by Tha Alkaholiks (보컬) on maniadb.com

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

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

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

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

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

(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

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...

(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

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)

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

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