Pooh- butts play the rear cause
I'm makin yapes
The rhymes ain't no thicker
than a, skittle grapes
A lot of girls would like to thank me,
for the hanky- panky
On the mic I hold a belt,
now I know no one could spank me
It took a long time for the people,
to hear my rhymes
Seems like I been rappin
since my birth in '69
Sorry to keep you waitin,
I run rhymes like walter payton
I get a rhyme like spokes on a dayton
But I won't knock off,
because I just rock off
The beats to get funky,
like when you take your sock off
To all the white folks I would
like to say howdy
And to all my brothers I say
peace quit actin rowdy
Wack mcs in ninety- two,
ew you need to take a rest
The public don't you aim the best
you're softer than a hookers chest
Raps, I make em, snaps, I make em
For duties movin booties cause
I shake shake shake em
And I got rhymes, funky funky rhymes
E- swift hold the needle down
with nickels and dimes
I drink olde english,
st. ide's and mickeys
When it's time to roll I throw
on my black dickeys
On the mic I get wicked, like wilson pickett
I get the place jumpin like a cricket
when I kick shit
I'm from the west coast but don't
sleep home- stimpy
Even if I was a paperboy you
still couldn't rip me
I walk up and chalk up pairs
like the knicks
I'm all in the mix like snares, and kicks
When it comes to rhymes I get
loose like belt buckles
Those who chose to oppose this nose
is felt knuckles
(where you goin' to?
) to the tip
(and what cha bout
to do? ) bout to rip
Some people use the word
funky too loosely
And just how many rappers say they
kick it like bruce lee
(what's your fa vorite
brew? ) olde e
(and what it make you do? ) go pee
It used to be about rhymes,
all about rhymes
Now rappers rearrangin, and
changin like times
I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen
and the pad y'all
I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen and the pad
y'all
Verse two: e- swift
Back the fuck up, gimme room to breath
Not too many niggaz can flip
the rhymes like these
I freak the technique as if it was a bitch
Got more soul than the pit with a fifth
Pitch the ball, so I can beat it with the bat
Talk some shit,
so I can smoke ya with my gat
I'm feelin kind feelin kinda
feelin kinda feelin kinda
Feelin kinda buzzed off
a sack of chocolate tie
My my my ho, I like to rip the shows up
Smack the hoes that walk
around with they nose up
Run to the liquor store,
before they close up
Buy a few 40s, cause daily I get to' up
Sit at the crib and write riggy riggy rhymes
Line after line after liggy liggy line
Yo I can get funky,
buy my tape and bump me
To the break of dawn I hit
the bud and pass it on
Hangin at the park,
shootin craps on the weekend
My brown bag is wet cause
my tall can is leakin
Starin at the cops, beatin up on rodney
While a pack of o.g.'s steppin
to me tryin to rob me
Just because I'm dope,
niggaz wanna smoke me
On the mic I get funky while
you're doin the hokey- pokey
Dance steps,
I think that you should leave to paula
Alkaholiks is the shit,
e- swift's the smooth bawler
Is slangin these rhymes like a rock
Life ain't shit but money and a glock
Don't punch a clock,
but I cock a fat knot
So I can smoke a lot of pot
that I roll up with tops
And ya ain't heard shit yet,
I'm just gettin warm
Like hot butter on,
say what? , the popcorn
I'm headed to the top,
please give me my props
My beats are fat as fuck
so bump my shit in your box
I love to hit the skinz, but then
again who doesn't
I love to hit the herbs cause it leave
me feelin buzzin
I dedicate this chumpie to
the poets who can wreck
And to all the nottie dreads I gots
to give them nuff respect
(where you goin' to?
) to the tip
(and what cha bout to do?
) bout to rip
Some people use the word
funky too loosely
And just how many niggaz say they
kick it like bruce lee
(what's your favorite
brew? ) olde e
(and what it make you do? ) go pee
It used to be about rhymes,
all about rhymes
Now rappers rearrangin, and
changin like times
I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen
and the pad y'all
I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen and
the pad y'all
Verse
Up jumps the man with the loot
Rockin like a troop with the
alkaholik group
Everything is kosher, got a little taller
Livin kinda phat cause king
tee's a bawler
I just, irritate the wack,
leave em so confused
When I'm checkin on the mic
with the ones and twos
Sneak you a peek of
the drunk technique
Can't stand up, need to take a seat
Baby baby baby it's the alkaholiks
But I can freak the mic no matter
how ya call it
Metaphors grand,
and I'm the great man
Drink a whole fifth yes I can yes I can can
The girls call me dick- em- down
Got that title rockin for the crown
Catch y'all later, around next weekend
I'm a alkaholik and I'm late for my meeting
