| I’m so outlandish, my rhymes the paint, the track’s the canvas | 
| Find me puffin tampons on your nearest college campus | 
| McEn-Ro, servin up heat like Pete Sampras | 
| Drinkin Jose Cuervo like some spanish bandits | 
| Make women panic when I tell 'em I’mma vanish | 
| Don’t take it personal, these are eight-one-eight antics | 
| Hoes break your pockets like car mechanics | 
| Every morning, I bow down and pray like a mantis | 
| Most women can’t stand this but I, ain’t romantic | 
| So that thought you can banish to the city of Atlantis | 
| Me and Tash met this tan bitch, made a Likwid sandwich | 
| I consume strictly green leaves like pandas | 
| Dig through ice for my brew, like they dig for woolly mammoths | 
| I’m volcanic up in bitches that look like Dorothy Dandridge | 
| Your style is Major Damage, it’s played out and ripped up | 
| It needs a bandage, how do you manage? | 
| I can’t stand it | 
| Hops, barley, water, yeast, grain | 
| Distillery — alcohol for the brain | 
| So check it out, smoke fills the area | 
| Drunk as fuck, launch off the aircraft carrier | 
| Your vision (blurred) eyes start to blink | 
| You overdid it homes; | 
| you had too much to drink (cut it out) | 
| This bout’s set for twelve rounds of pain | 
| Tequila limes and salt, these cats hard to hang | 
| Sixteen bar shark, teeth to fangs | 
| Open off Tha Liks — duck season, you’re in range | 
| Turn the page — here comes the next chapter | 
| Battle Ev? | 
| You sign with Blue Cross or AFTRA | 
| Heavy rotation, dilate expansion | 
| California funk — like Flav, we 'Cold Lampin' | 
| Fuck the format 'til they can’t ignore us | 
| But chill Swift bout to kill after the chorus | 
| Dilated y’all (toast to this) | 
| It’s Tha Liks baby (toast to this) | 
| And y’all can’t come (close to this) | 
| I cook up beats like dope, they should call me illegal | 
| We control the underground like Bugsy Siegal | 
| And my crew is like the mob, we whylin off that vino | 
| High-rollin, takin over your local casino | 
| Year after year, my music pleases your ear | 
| That’s why my focus is right like Outboard gear | 
| Tune in, this is like a family reunion | 
| We like cousins and shit (hey) rockin this bitch | 
| Dilated and the (Likwid MC’s) | 
| We gradually elevatin to a (higher degree) | 
| We smash through the underground like we (SUV's) | 
| And spit game to the hoes and let em know they gettin (nuttin for free) | 
| Aiyyo listen close, toast to West coast | 
| Where bein gangsta ain’t a hoax, we kill folks | 
| And C-walkin ain’t just a dance or a joke | 
| We stay in heavy rotation, coast to coast | 
| Yo, it’s hard to pass the bar, ask your lawyer | 
| Likwid, pour it on y’all from California | 
| Programmers, spray this on your play list | 
| If rap was hard liquor I’d be «Leaving Las Vegas» | 
| Live show radio mixtape massacre | 
| It’s a party y’all with room for more passengers | 
| I turn mics to pistols and start rappin | 
| And turn pistols back to mics and start blastin 'em | 
| J-Ro, E-Swift, Tash and them | 
| «Expansion Team», «X.O.» | 
| chips, cashin 'em | 
| I’m not fashionable but I am international | 
| I called it like I see it on stage like Supernatural | 
| Honies keep flirtin like the flows are workin | 
| Don’t stop 'til I’m certain then I close the curtains | 
| Animal House shit, coast to coast like Tha Liks | 
| I don’t drink as much, but I’ll toast to this | 
| Aiyyo CaTash’ll slap the track with a open fist backhand | 
| I crack fans with funk then burn rubber like the Gap Band | 
| Batman can’t walk through my hood, it’s no love | 
| Tash’ll jack him for his cape and sport that shit to the club | 
| Is it love or is it buzz, that got my thinkin patterns | 
| Thinkin yo' bitch is mine that’s why you see me winkin at her | 
| She’ll be drinkin at a tavern, out of a glass size 8 | 
| Likwid Crew and Dilated make that ass gyrate | 
| While you ask I take, anything that I could lift | 
| Your rapper’s rappin like CaTash y’all DJ’s rappin like Swift | 
| I was born with a gift, you niggas used to average rappin | 
| Your styles is old as fuck, that’s why my clique start cabbage patchin | 
| I do this for the beer, and for the ones that ain’t here | 
| Y’all niggas better make way for X, Ras and Saafir | 
| I’m like a tattooed tear, Tash’ll never go away | 
| I’m bout to fill my quota I need X.O. | 
| every day | 
| The extended family of Tha Alkaholiks | 
| The extended family of the Likwit Crew | 
| The extended family of everybody that smoke bud | 
| Dilated Peoples in the motherfuckin place y’all |