Intro:
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Ladies and gentleman, that nigga King Tee and the al-cum-a-holiks
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Verse One: J-Ro
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Pooh-butts play the rear cause I'm makin yapes
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The rhymes ain't no thicker than a, skittle grapes
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A lot of girls would like to thank me, for the hanky-panky
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On the mic I hold a belt, now I know no one could spank me
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It took a long time for the people, to hear my rhymes
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Seems like I been rappin since my birth in '69
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Sorry to keep you waitin, I run rhymes like Walter Payton
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I get a rhyme like spokes on a Dayton
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But I won't knock off, because I just rock off
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the beats to get funky, like when you take your sock off
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To all the white folks I would like to say howdy
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And to all my brothers I say peace quit actin rowdy
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Wack MCs in ninety-two, ew you need to take a rest
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the public don't you aim the best you're softer than a hookers chest
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raps, I make em, snaps, I make em
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For duties movin booties cause I shake shake shake em
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And I got rhymes, funky funky rhymes
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E-Swift hold the needle down with nickels and dimes
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I drink Olde English, St. Ide's and Mickeys
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When it's time to roll I throw on my black dickeys
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On the mic I get wicked, like Wilson Pickett
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I get the place jumpin like a cricket when I kick shit
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I'm from the West coast but don't sleep home-stimpy
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Even if I was a paperboy you still couldn't rip me
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I walk up and chalk up pairs like the Knicks
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I'm all in the mix like snares, and kicks
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When it comes to rhymes I get loose like belt buckles
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Those who chose to oppose this nose is felt knuckles
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(Where you goin' to?) To the tip
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(And what cha bout to do?) Bout to rip
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Some people use the word funky too loosely
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And just how many rappers say they kick it like Bruce Lee
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(What's your favorite brew?) Olde E
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(And what it make you do?) Go pee
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It used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes
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Now rappers rearrangin, and changin like times
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I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
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When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all
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I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
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When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all
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Verse Two: E-Swift
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Back the fuck up, gimme room to breath
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Not too many niggaz can flip the rhymes like these
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I freak the technique as if it was a bitch
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Got more soul than the pit with a fifth
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Pitch the ball, so I can beat it with the bat
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Talk some shit, so I can smoke ya with my gat
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I'm feelin kind feelin kinda feelin kinda feelin kinda
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feelin kinda buzzed off a sack of chocolate tie
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My my my ho, I like to rip the shows up
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Smack the hoes that walk around with they nose up
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Run to the liquor store, before they close up
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Buy a few 40s, cause daily I get to' up
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Sit at the crib and write RIGGY RIGGY rhymes
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Line after line after LIGGY LIGGY line
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Yo I can get funky, buy my tape and bump me
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To the break of dawn I hit the bud and pass it on
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Hangin at the park, shootin craps on the weekend
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My brown bag is wet cause my tall can is leakin
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Starin at the cops, beatin up on Rodney
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While a pack of O.G.'s steppin to me tryin to rob me
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Just because I'm dope, niggaz wanna smoke me
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On the mic I get funky while you're doin the hokey-pokey
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Dance steps, I think that you should leave to Paula
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Alkaholiks is the shit, E-Swift's the smooth bawler
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Is slangin these rhymes like a rock
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Life ain't shit but money and a glock
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Don't punch a clock, but I cock a fat knot
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So I can smoke a lot of pot that I roll up with tops
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And ya ain't heard shit yet, I'm just gettin warm
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Like hot butter on, SAY WHAT?, THE POPCORN
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I'm headed to the top, please give me my props
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My beats are fat as fuck so bump my shit in your box
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I love to hit the skinz, but then again WHO DOESN'T
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I love to hit the herbs cause it leave me feelin buzzin
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I dedicate this chumpie to the poets who can wreck
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And to all the nottie dreads I gots to give them nuff respect
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(Where you goin' to?) To the tip
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(And what cha bout to do?) Bout to rip
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Some people use the word funky too loosely
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And just how many niggaz say they kick it like Bruce Lee
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(What's your favorite brew?) Olde E
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(And what it make you do?) Go pee
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| It used to be ab |
