| Back once again to wet up the whole area
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| Check my style out
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| Verse One: Tash
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| Read my lips, my dick be makin bitches leave tips
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| Castin shadows over battles like a lunar eclipse
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| Cause the man that makes you jump like you the grand prize winner of a Lexus
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| I’m back again to test your reflexes
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| If you don’t think I can flow then you can ask E-Swift
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| If you don’t believe Swift then you can call Steve Griff
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| If you don’t believe Griff then step up to fuck with I Call you up and send you as a gift to hieroglyph
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| Cause the Liks got lyric tricks datin back to eighty-six
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| While my thousand dollar system still busts the pause mix
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| So my style be comin at you more deadlin than a cobra
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| With these niggaz on my mind like is he drunk or is he sober
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| Mind your biz while I rhymes like Biz to the tent
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| I slam like a fifth that stays hidden
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| Not to be fucked with, under any circumstances
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| And I don’t have to sing to send these bitches into trances
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| Chorus: E-Swift (repeat 4X)
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| I give the party people what they like
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| Somethin hype, to keep em rockin all night
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| Verse Two: J-Ro
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| Next it’s, the man freakin funky flow flexes
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| Bustin in my All Day I Dream About Sexes
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| Walk into your living room there I am Stroll to your kitchen there I am Run to your backyard hmm there I am Everywhere you look there goes the Ro-gram
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| That’s why you hate me, you can’t escape me You can’t even erase me off your tape
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| We the A-L-K, H-O-L-I-K-S
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| Comin like new pimps humps and stress to your chest
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| J, to the R-O, just rockin on I keep the party poppin til a new day is born
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| The Alkaholik name won’t change not a bit
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| I told you on the last skit dick you can’t tell me shit
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| We kick it wicked, so you can get addicted
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| To the hip-hop that we drop, get with the liquid
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| Verse Three: J-Ro, Tash
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| Punk MC’s get bent, I’ll leave a dent in what you sent
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| I got your city covered like a motherfuckin tent
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| Some say I rap funny, give my money to the needy
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| The way Ibust will get you dizzy like a VD
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| I hang with thugs I’m like drugs so why try me
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| I’m swift like Ozzie Smith, your flow ain’t goin by me He’s a sufferin succcootash, throw him in the trash
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| Show him you the man that’ll boom bash
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| I hold MC’s up like money it ain’t funny
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| When I leave em in the corner broke up like crash dummies
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| Get a doctor, sock the, volts to the chest
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| For the cardiac arrest, fuckin with the freshest
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| Cause even on your best, I leave you like Ness
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| Cause I’m colder than a forty straight out the ice chest
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| So it’s easy to distinguish who drunk the Olde English
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| Cause it stays in my system till I drain it out my…
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| (arguement with girl)
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| How many alcoholics we got here in the house? |
| *cheer*
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| How many pot-heads we got? |
| *cheer*
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| Same fuckin assholes |