21 & Over

Verse one: tash

I hang mc's with my noose, watch me get loose
The nigga flippin more styles than snapple got juice
Cause i'm too hot to handle, got more soul in my pinky
Than a niggy pickin his afro and i left the skin not stinky
The freshest, yes it's, the rhymer with the bottle
Kickin it with my homie like lamont do with rollo
Live at the apollo, they still couldn't do it
Cause even in new york the crew be buzzin off the fluid
So testing [one], testing [two], testing [three]
Too much olde e will make you pee
As you can see i'm the alkaholik tipsy off the whiskey
Get with the clippers never nappy like misty
I didn't grow dreads, cause dreads is for the rastas
Tha alkaholik click straight knockin out imposters
Gots to roll deep like ants at a picnic
Get with the crew that's flowin like likwit

Verse two: j-ro

Every night i pray to god please, no more wack mc's
I catch a few z's, wake up and bust these
I get over like a high jumper, freaks be on my weinie
Cause they know i'm packin more shit than bandini
The freshest on the map servin raps with all fixins
E-swift does the mixin, pockets fat like rickie nixon
[ain't no party like a alkaholik party]
So don't be a nitwit, get with the likwit
[ah yeah, ah yeah] yeah a little louder a little louder a little louder
One two one two yeah just like that, yo
Yo, [flowin like likwit]
Ahh yeah [ahh yeah ahh yeah ahh yeah] flowin like likwit
Owwwwww, king tee

Verse three: king tee

Here comes the lik, or should i say likwit
As i gets funky on a track that my nigga e-swift did
Rollin with the alkaholik group, call me trooper
Run of the mill skills got your neck in the noose
But hey, i be the k-i-n-g tee for short
Big ballin nigga playin rhymes like a sport
Wicked when i kick it, yeah that's the ticket
Tossin up a forty still buzzin off the likwit

Verse four: j-ro

You ain't got enough skill, to fill up a cup
So niggy won't you just shut the [hold up]
The girls call me dookie man cause i'm the shit can't you smell son
I gots more freaks than prince rogers nelson
I can't be stopped i got hip-hop wreckin powers
I gotta say what's up to my buddy ricky flowers
We got that likwit funk, we get drunk with the
.... [hell motherfuckin yeah]

Verse one: j-ro

I knock em knock em out the park when other rappers are hitting bunts
I'm a togger not a fogger step on hunts and don't do stunts
I got soul power never took a cold shower
Never had a girlfriend the color of cooking flour
You can call me sleazy cuz my rhymes are kinda greasy
Some brothers wear curls, cuz it ain't easy being peasy
Like a kung-fu flick, i stick you in the dick, with my toothpick
Tell em rick ("you hit them harder than a fuckin brick")
I like clothes and hoes but like em better in the sheets
I rock more beats than jesse owens ran track meets]
Amazing feets move, they happen everyday
When the ro to the j bring his ass out to play
I weight one-eighty but i'm, fat
I ki-uh-kick up dust when i bust like a cap
Tha alkaholik crew, and what we're here to do
Is rock a show, knock a hoe, and crack another brew

Chorus:

Make room, for the crew with beats that thump (3x)
Tunes hittin hard enough to ditch your trunk
It's the liks baby, it's the liks (4x)

Verse two: tash

The super, duper, gets it poppin with the quickness
King tee and the alkies straight gettin down to business
It's all about the liks cause we're heavy on the kicks
But we're easy on the treble (adjust my mic level)
So fools can here me mic checkin all the way in china
The skills you can't front on, tha alkaholik rhymer
Could rip a show up to' up so i always flex my talents
But my words don't be slurrin, i never lose my balance
But that's cause i'm slick tossin bottles like a discus
The liks could rock a party from halloween to christmas
That's why i'm screamin on mc's like i'm onyx
I'm hooked on gin and tonics like your momma's hooked on phonics
So when we steppin through, with the thirty-two of brew
Niggaz better make way for the alkaholik crew
When we're steppin through, with the thirty-two of brew
Niggaz better make way for the alkaholik crew

Chorus

Verse three: j-ro

First you gotta have respect, money comes next
After you get those, come the hoes and the sex
Girl you keep askin bout the niggaz in my crew
Yeah i'm down with pooh, but what's up with me and you
Cause i don't give a fuck whose your cousin who could fuck
Cause i just wanna fuck, damn i wanna fuck
So unlock the gate and make room for the heavyweight rapper
The slim light skinned coochie slapper
Pull over to the side so i can roll up the indo
Got the bitch head bumpin on the front window
Wham, bam, i spanked you ma'am
I wonder how they make these rubbers from the skin of a lamb
I blow into the mic when i check it
Had hoes gettin naked way before i made a record
I smoked a gang of liquor, i drink a gang of boom
Like ted, i gotta zoom zoom so make room

Chorus

Outro: tash, j-ro

Ah yeah, ah yeah, tha alkaholiks
Yo, before we bail
We gotta give a shout out to the crew that gets the party poppin
Tha alkaholik crew

Old english is in the house, and uhh
What about mickey's? is in the house, and uhh
St. ide's is in the house, and uhh
Crazy horse is in the house, and uhh
Genuine draft is in the house, and uhh
What about red bull is in the house, and uhh
Colt .45 is in the house, and uhh
King cobra ain't in the house, and uhh
*bottle smashes*

Intro: bartender and j-ro

Yo last call, last call, last call for alcohol!
At two, you're through!

{j-ro} ay bartendah! bartender!
{bart} yo whassup man?
{j-ro} ay man, man let me get a... rummmmm an coke
{bart} yo man don't you think you had a little bit too much to drink?
{j-ro} ay just let me get one more man
{bart} yo man i'm lookin out for you man, it's your life
{j-ro} man i'll hop over this motherfucker and get my own damn drink

Hey niggy, what time it is...

Verse one: tash

It's time to roll my sleeves, fuck a few mc's up
Another rough cut, from the crew that won't ease up
The alkaholik click, aka the forty downers
Flips rhymes like calvin flips fries and quarter pounders
I never drink and drive cuz i might spill my drink
I failed the breathalizer so they took me to the clink
Niggaz earlin in the sink cause they can't fade the cisco
I'm from the old school but i never rocked a disco
Loops from the group that, likes to smack the bitches
Tha liks is hittin hookers like a gangsta hittin switches
Front, to the back, to the side, to the side
And make you dance with these bitches but, no electric slidin
And i'm about to flip, but first i'm bout to sip
Off the forty ounce of brew that i was savin for the trip
Back to the lab cuz all i do is bang cuts
That's why i hang around my group like a dick hang with nuts

Verse two: j-ro

I push one two's when niggaz step on my shoes
Oh you haven't heard the news i've been giving fools blues
Manhandling chumps that step up, just to keep my rep up
I push my fist through your grill
I never became a gangsta, thanks ta, my skill
On the nine inches of steel
You ask me what the k's for, they don't mean nothin
["k's for the way my dee-jay's kuttin" -- schoolly d, p.s.k.]

Chorus: tash, group

Last call y'all {call y'all}
Call y'all {call y'all}
{last call, for alcohol}
Last call y'all {call y'all}
Call y'all {call y'all}
{last call, for alcohol}

[j-ro] yeah... word
[tash] alkaholik style nigga

Verse three: e-swift

Uh, i be one of dem niggaz known to drink a gang of brewskis
Float like the wind, so all y'all can call me cool breeze
Cooler than my man morris day in the winter
The dope rhyme inventor, rockin shows at the center
So pass the mic on the, down low
Now go grab a forty from the liquor sto'
And you don't stop {don't stop} and you don't quit {don't quit}
Unless you're in the studio making wack shit

Chorus

[j-ro] yeah... that nigga squid is in the house

Verse four: j-ro

I got a forty-four mag with the clip (with a clip)
So mc's watch your lip, cause i'm shootin from the hip ahh
I rip like oprah, in tight jeans do
And splits a needle wrap a pair man because them shits is on the fritz
It's crazy, a few mc's amaze me
With this alkie style of rock, mr. spock couldn't phase me
Rhymin pays me, but i do it anyway
Many say, ay, when it comes to rhymes you got plenty j
I'm so cool i drink forty ounces of freon
You never see me on the stage with a peon
When we on the microphone it's like jordan all alone
We slam, competition, scram damn
Can we get along? nope.
Switchblade to the throat to mc's who ain't dope
Call me j-ro the clepto, cuz i'm stealing to the jaw
Of these half-baked rappers, trying to get raw

Verse five: tash

Soul in my strut, muscle in my hustle
It's just a little something for them punks that wanna bust they little
Def jam comedy, raps that make me crack up
You better call the one-time and tell em send a backup
Cuz i'm about to act up, i couldn't kick a verse
J-ro say he got it bad, so that mean i got it worse
Check uno dos, crack a forty, make a toast
Let me rip the instrumental and impress the west coast

Chorus

[j-ro] uhh... damn it feels like my bones is rattling
Uhh ohhh shit! i'm outta here...

Ohh yeah, tell the sons of jones to kiss my ass

Verse one: e-swift

I stop by the club, cuz it ain't shit else to do it
I'm on the guestlist, it's e-swift plus two
Stepped to the bar, cuz, it's a bad habit
Open mic night, so, the liks gots to grab it
Check the mic, it sounds tight so
I guess we might rock the motherfucker all night yo
The niggaz went wild, the hoes went crazy
We dropped the microphone than we swayze

Verse two: j-ro

Oooh don't i sound great when i down a black eighth
My style is much hotter than the enchilada plate
My name is james but the girls call me god when i'm humpin
I should get a gold medal for broad jumpin
Rappers, talkin bout, back to the old school
You never shoulda left in the first place fool
Now everybody wants to be a prophet
But i won't quit rhymin bout my dick so get off it
You put a rhyme together but i only dismantle it
So gimme a high-five cause you juts can't handle it
If rap was a swimming pool i'd climb to the top
Plus a triple-back, hand me the mic and watch the belly flop
Dagnabit, i got a bad habit
It don't matter where i'm at i seen a booty and i grab it
So niggaz step back before you get lit
I'm a grown motherfuckin man and you can't tell me shit

Chorus: repeat 2x

You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me a hot damn thing
You can't tell me shit, you can't tell me shit

Verse three: j-ro

I rock you like lenny kravitz, or nirvana
I'm puttin suckers on pause like a comma
I never ape crazy act but i got the yapes a superhero
From the ghetto puttin creases in my capes
(up up up and away, j-ro!!)
I got more hoes than a canyon got echoes
I'm rougher than bluto, tougher than a callous
My number one football team is dallas
Cowboys, now boys, can't you see i'm greater than
Your grandpops is my number one fan
You get ran on the court you dribble like manute bol
You try to take it to the hole *crowd roars* get that shit outta here
I'm more gifted than christmas morning
I pull out a pen and write a rhyme when i'm boning
Me i'm tripping, let me light my phillie blunt
Oh there goes my beeper, what the hell do billy want
[yo whassup j?] man i quit selling weed
[no i need a funky break] well i got what you need

Chorus

Verse four: j-ro

You hittin corners with the alkies seen you pull-out cuz you great
The crew who got another tape that's bumpin harder, save it!
Rhythm and blues blew a fuse, and now it ain't the same
They put a lot of funky drummers out the game
They samplin the fresh hip-hop breaks, just to make a hit
That's why to me, r&b, really ain't shit
So peace to all the real hip-hop niggyroles
The ones who knows about flows and rockin shows
I wanna say whassup to the ladies
I gotsta say whassup to the ladies
From the atlantic, to the pacific
I gotsta be specific, they know i'm terrific
I'm pushin up to the bars, got em screamin alkahols
Ohh gosh call me josh cause i'm bringin down the walls
Mc extrordinaire, j-ro came to set it straight
I never hesitate to grab the mic and meditate
In la, most niggaz walk the same
Act the same, talk the same, drive the same
Dress the same, shoot the same, fuck the same
But this is ro and i got my own game
I drive through lyrics like i'm riding on the freeway
And i don't give rappers, no kind of leeway
Chumps be hittin ejects cause i break necks when i flex
I be housin mo niggaz than the projects

Chorus

Outro: j-ro

Yeah, this goes out to king tee
Dj pooh, yo the whole crew
Yo d-pimp for makin the track
That nigga tash
Deadly threat
This is j-ro and e-swift
Tha alkaholiks, and it's like that

Intro: tash, speaking to j-ro

Yo whassup man, get up man [*urrp* i can't bust man]
Get up nigga, bust [i'm fucked]
Get up you gotta do your verse nigga
[aight i'll try it] get up nigga!

Verse one: j-ro

I get drunk and i stumble to the phone
And conjure up a bitch to bone when i'm alone
Ohh shit, tow back, i need to take a piss
Only when i'm drunk i sing a song like this
My grandma and your grandma *urrp*
Sittin by the fire
Hold on, turn the beat off [nah, keep it goin
J-ro can you make it?] i'm just not knowin
I get drunk and start talkin mo' shit
And when i got a gun in my hand you better get, out
Cause my brain just ain't what it used to be
Forget tryin to raionalize, cover your eyes
Ah d-*urrp*, damn i'm drunk
I need a chunk, no better yet a hunk of that funk
When i get drunk i might act uncouth
But when i get drunk i always tell the truth
Yeah i'm good, i'm bad, i'm dope, i'm freaky fresh
I make hip-hop fans say yes yes
The liks comin through, you know we gonna blow upop
Hold up, hold up, i think i gotta...
*urrrrrrp* damn, false alarm
Gettin all the ladies with my cool charm
When i get drunk i might even call my daddy a punk
Yeah, but only when i'm dr-*urp* drunk

Yeah, let me pass the forty, to my nigga, tash

Verse two: tash, e-swift

It goes one for the chronic, two for the amnesia
It's the pimp-slap niggy with drinks in the freezer
Bust the one out, two out, [flips] type of rapper
That'd get you our your seat quicker than a car jacker
Slip a colt for the fever when i'm coolin with my people
Got hoes in east columus like i'm billy dee wrinkle
Cause i move like, i'm smooth like i'm harry belafonte
Lookin for them niggaz that jumped my homey dante
All up in this bitch with the gin and tanqueray
Drink like mr. wendal smoke bud like dr. dre
But that's cause i'm old enough to do that type of shit
Got damn i gotta piss i pass the mic to e-swift

Yeah, i get drunk and can't nobody whoop me
I'm trippin, must be the brew that i was sippin
Kickin in, guess i shouldn'ta mixed it with the gin
Cause when i'm layin on my back i can feel the room spin
One too many, i reckon
Feelin i got ta earl, any second
Wanna get up but can't move, feels like i'm stuck in the groove
What the fuck was i tryin to prove?
I get a rep for downin four-o's
All the hoes knows them alkaholik bros
Niggaz call me dad i got a fifth in the trunk
Might fuck an ugly bitch but only when i'm drunk

Verse three: j-ro

Aight, think i'm feelin a little better
Ready to bust this, like this
And ya don't miss, check it out

I get drunk and start thinkin bout my friends
That passed on with every forty ounce the memory will last on
Black man muzzle, mike lee and suavey d
The three mc's will always live in my memories
We used to rock shows, we used to rock hoes
And drink forty-o's, and wear the same clothes
Damn i wish we could go through it again
But i know one day we gonna do it again
And when that day comes it's gonna be live
But i ain't in no hurry so i don't drink and drive
The alkaholiks we gets funky when we drinkin
Just a lil sumthin, to pump up the thinkin

Outro: j-ro

Beer run! ante up nigga
Ha ha, put the money in the hat