Got It Bad Y'All

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 the belt, now I know no one could spank me

It took a long time for the people to hear my rhymes

Seems like I've been rappin' since my birth in '69

Sorry to keep you waitin', I run rhymes like Walter Payton

I get around 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, "Please quit actin' rowdy"

Wack MCs in '92, ooh, 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. Ides and Mickeys

When it's time to roll I throw on my black Dickies

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

(Yo, where you goin' to?) To the tip

(And what you '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 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 chagin' 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

The Alkaholiks

The Alkaholiks

Back the fuck up, give me room to breathe

Not too many **** can flip the rhymes like these

I freak the Technique as if it was a bitch

Got more soul than the pick with the fist

Pitch the ball, so I can beat it with the bat

Talk some shit, so I can smoke you with my gat

I'm feelin' kinda, feelin' kinda, feelin' kinda, feelin' kinda

Feelin' kinda buzzed off a sack of chocolate Thai

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 tore 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'

I'm starin' at the cops, beatin' up on Rodney

While a pack of OG's are steppin' to me tryin' to rob me

Just because I'm dope, **** 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 baller

Is slangin' these rhymes like a rock

Life ain't shit but money and a Glock

Don't punch a clock, but I clock a fat knot

So I can smoke a lot of pot that roll up with tops

And you 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 skins, 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 natty dreads I gots to give them 'nuff respect

(Where you goin' to?) To the tip

(And what you 'bout to do?) 'Bout to rip

Some people use the word funky too loosely

And just how many **** say they kick it like Bruce Lee

(What's your favorite brew?) Olde E'

(And what it make you do?) Go Pee

Used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes

Now rappers rearrangin' and chagin' 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

The Alkaholiks

The Alkaholiks

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 baller

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 you 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"

I got that title right before the crown

Catch y'all later, around next weekend

I'm a Alkaholik and I'm late for my meeting