Lyrics All The Way Live - Tash, Q-Tip, King Tee

All The Way Live

Verse one: tash
Caps get peeled rolling in my force field
Like a nine with hollow points I keep rap flows thats ill
So when you walkin down the block you better watch who you approachin
Im not your r&b singer, so aint no need for vocal coachin
Just a forty and a roach and Ill admit you rock the units
While yall niggaz couldnt move me if you worked for starvin students
Downin all beer types, from st.
ides to red stripe (yipes!)
The menace stuffin mics down motherfuckers windpipes
Has returrrrned, to burrrrn, its time yall niggaz learrrrrn
I neaturalize yall niggaz like relaxer in a perm
With flows that go against the grain with a story so compellin
I should mind the peoples court, snatch the mic from doug llewellyn
And host my own show, after bill cosby comes ricooooo!
Transmitting live to all my black people
Catch my drift, Im down with my nigga e-swift
My name is tash, Im from the group that you dont wanna fuck with
Never shy, sippin on some why ask why
Smokin thai with this bitch thats more fly than jasmin guy
Hooked up with john q so let me do my thiiing
While niggaz rock the play shit that they bought from chess king
But still, I train rhymes to flip like a seal
Niggaz say my rhyme skill on the steel is unreal
But all I do is chill and swing it when I bring it Oh shit thats my nigga show these niggaz how you figure
Verse two: q-tip
I bring it to your chest pour all the way live
And deliver ill verse guaranteed to cause highs
When we start rappin heads roll like patton
With the flood blood clot the alkaholiks rhyme a lot
Yo Im like grimace when Im on this rap scrimmage
And I got this magic wand to make your puny soul diminish
The abstract delivers, I be the queens nigga on point
Mary jane aint nuttin but a joint
They called a nigga up to add a little bit of flavor
Now Im cuttin and slashin like lukes light saber
Yeah, what?
you trapped in the zone
Where mcs get seared and all spots blown
And in this rap shit a nigga need to be thicky
I fuck with the crew who downs the deuce deuce mickeys
Im from the rotten apple, yall niggaz cant grapple
And love to the liks, hit your ass like a tackle
[pow, bust my liquid-ass style
Peace to mad lib and my nigga wild child]
Verse three: j-ro
Yo put in the disc e While I hit the whiskey
The nigga missed me Im in this rap game so ima aim to be best
Its fresh, but off the head its like the dunk contest
I dont walk the street, I roll my jeep in an instant
I rock the beat to sleep like an infant
The likwit crew, comin like this on you
With that four minute olde english piss on you
Youre bustin dumb raps off the cap, oh shit
But I got the pen and pad locked down like a pit
I let the, ink submerger, into the thin wood sheets
Beats make my head bop, so ima rock it for the streets
I fill all my days with big butts and boom
I let my pants hand cause my big nuts need room
Im not old school, or new school, Im modern school, Im ditchin
When my girl starts bitchin I gets got like a kitchen
I fly down like the chi-town wind
Cause I got the iller noise to make the hardcore grin
When, the saints come marchin in Ima roll right by em in the fly lincoln
Roughneck niggaz wanna box me down
Cause I got the ladies lookin like foxy brown
The liks bring the beer tip sticks it in your earholes
I drop the mic and strike the heisman pose
Verse four: king tee
Hardcore g, I get hardcore man
From the underland a fuckin wonderman, bam
Lunatic potential, an isperential differential
Confidentially smashin instrumentals
On this tune I bring raps of doom to the mic
And put my rear shit in flight, peep
If the drunk funk dont wanna hump in your trunk
Man you got some motherfuckin junk