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[Featuring Loot Pack]
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Intro: Tash
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Yeah, Tha Alkaholiks
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Ay J, I got a crew
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They called the Loot Pack
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And they can get crazy fresh y'all, crazy fresh y'all
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My man Jack is about to get fresh y'all
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Verse One: Loot Pack
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Check the flavor here's a rootin tootin hydraulic trooper
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Tha Alkaholik grouper in the house and when I bust the hula-hooper
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Peep my ish, when I flips next I flash with the Cracker Jacker
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A true Loot Packer
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Gettin versatile when I smile toastin to the funk
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All punks put your glass down, or end up in the trunk
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You wonder when my dope styles sound kind of varied
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The Pictionary, man with my backpack, I'll Carey
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Mariah took her back, and show her how I Pack, Loot
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Kick lyrics on originally outtrack black in fact
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People call me moody, I simply knocks the booty
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Pull up my hoody, and then I bust a Sam Goody
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Verse Two: Tash
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Bitches on my woody cuz I likes to get the loosest
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I eat niggaz up and wash em down with deuce gooses
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A Colt .45 cuz I gotsta rush the likwit
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Tash from the group that the bitches wanna get with
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I kick it from the East all the way to the West
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Yes stay away from booze that puts the hair on your chest
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And that's a little piece of advice for the kiddos
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I bust more flavor than your teacher got dittoes
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I keep it up to date or take it back like The Twist
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E-Swift is out of town so the Pack load the disc
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So, take your ass home, good night, the party's over
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If your ass is drunk, ride home with someone sober
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Yeah... Tha Alkaholiks, ah yeah, the Loot Pack
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(the party's over, it's all over) Nineteen ninety-three
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And this is how we kick it
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Verse Three: Loot Pack, J-Ro
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I'ma wreck the neck conducting props like Randy Wrecker
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The mecca licka mega-hot mega-mike checka
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Call me diesel to the easel, the weasel, the wacky
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The packy, the Rikki, Tikki, the Taffy
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One for the trouble, two for the trouble
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I gotta get snaps and spit raps on the double
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On and on to the beat I wreck shop
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scoop a rumplestil-skin then I'm out, the brother with the clout
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Be so dead on the loopa, the super-duper wrecka mic checka
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I roll soul like an old trooper
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I used to play football, now I'm into rockin
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My rhyme is the tailback, the track is the blockin
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My name is J-Ro and I've been waitin for ages
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To let the world know what I've been writin on the pages
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I don't smoke sess it's rough on the West
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OK, I confess, I puff on the stress
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I rip it when I wreck it, when I mic check it
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Brothers check the flav, check the Alkaholik record
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While I flip styles, and rip styles, and hit styles
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and hit piles for miles of styles, I still pile
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The flavor flippin funk, bringin diesel be the packer
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A trooper loop, scoop you like a hula-hoop and smack ya
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Like you stutter, I ribbedyribbedyribbedyrip styles, I'm comin
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The Loot Pack, Tha Alkaholiks keepin niggaz runnin
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Runnin, yeah, do that shit, yeah
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Turn the party out, yeah yeah
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Turn the party out, c'mon c'mon
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Verse Four: E-Swift
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You think that you can fade this, you must be out to lunch
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They call me E-Swift, I'm from Tha Alkaholik bunch
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I just downed a brew, now check out one two
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It's the Liks baby rockin with the Loot Pack crew
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Funky like Con-Funk-Shun, more style than Stylistics
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I got mo' beats than Magic's got assists so
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raise up off me, or get snatched by the collar
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The party ain't over till that fat bitch holler
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I'm in the house so check the way I flow
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Niggaz say I'm fat, everyday I say I know
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But my head ain't swoll, I stay down to earth
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Never gangbang, never claim the turf
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But I drink a gang of forties, ain't nuttin wrong with that
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Unless you go buckwild and start bustin off your gat
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*bang, bang bang*
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*stumbling*
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Ay nigga fuck that the party's over man!
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Everybody get they shit get the fuck out
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-----------------
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Turn The Party Out
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Tha Alkaholiks |