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Intro: Tash
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Yes yes yes yes yes yeah-he-ha-ha-ha!
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Back to drown ya'll motherfuckaz!
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Who we got, we got, we got
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We got the Liks, we got the Liks, we got the Liks
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Cause MC's in ninety-five, MC's in ninety-five
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MC's in ninety-five that think they rock like
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MC's in ninety-five, MC's in ninety-five
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MC's in ninety-five that swear they rock live
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Verse One:
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MC's in ninety-five they need way more rehearsin
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They write they booty kyrics then they add they little curse in
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YOu're not a true hip-hop person
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Spend a little time with your rhymes and quit makin wack versions
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I send this shit out to all them niggaz from that group
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With the ninety minute demo sounding just like Snoop
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You better bizzay, your ass up out my rhyme zone
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Fore I leave you on the ground broke up like pine cones
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You're rootin and tootin but ain't did no shootin
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while the freshest hip-hop, it curses verses like a wicked witch
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Disaster, cock the rhyme flows back to kill
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To get me out your system takes more than Golden Seal
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Cause I bust so many flows I gotta file my shit in columns
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while MC's be goin down like Olympiads that slalom, rock-bottom
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I got em, left without no watchers
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While I be housin niggaz like they put up for adoption
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I rock loaded, I never get promoted
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But through the bullshit my crew stays devoted
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While you be bustin lyrics bout the funs y'all niggaz toted
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I'll be standin like a b-boy with both arms folded
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But no exucses, I still get the loosest
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When RIco's in the house tryin to grab the mic and juice this
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So back the fuck up like we told you last time
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Cause it's the Liks in the house with the ninety-five rhymes
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Chorus: Repeat 4X
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We can do out thing (we can do our thing), bottoms up!
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Verse Two: J-Ro
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I wake up, kill a roach, call the homies, hit some weights
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Reminesce about the shows we did in fourty-eight states
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Banned in the rest, but we was on tour with who
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De La, and Quest, we made the crowd say yes (yes)
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Now it's like fuck, Make Room, move your ass out my way
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Bay-bee, bay-bee
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WIth all these hoes around clwon, why you wanna bang?
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Let's have a celebration like Kool and the Gang
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I bring it all the way back, like a punk return
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I rock some spots and call more shots than Chick Hearns
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The only MC I like is Amante
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I was drinkin Asi Spumante wit cha auntie
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Bust them lyrics shots from the AKG
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When it comes to style and finesse, I'm the epitome
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Hit a beat, make em all retire, flyer
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higher than a jet, like Stet I'm on fire
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Causin pain like a runaway train you don't stop
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Drop the track, now watch it flow back to the top
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I'm the J-R-O, not J-E-R-U
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And you know what we came to do, bottoms up!
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Chorus
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Verse Three: King Tee
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When you hear screams, that means King Tee walked in
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The advertisement, and that nigga's bent
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Raise up off the wall, bitches Last Call
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Ready for the ruckus, pushin motherfuckers off the stage
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Teela's got a brand new gauge
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So Make Room, for the crew with beats that
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I got a complex I guess I bust best with stress
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A mess, don't bring that shit to the West, cause
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Uhhh, I bring drama, like Jeffery Dahmer
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Choppin up MC's with they mama
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Ah-hah! Oops I made a funny with the dozens
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The one-est, who busts rough rhymes for the cousins
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Super Nigga's comin! Faster than a bullet
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Leapin over buildings, wavin at the children
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And don't even trip cause the Alkaholiks funk don't cease
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Tash I'm up out this piece
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Chorus (repeat until fades)
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Bottoms Up
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Tha Alkaholiks |