Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song W.L.I.X, artist - Tha Alkaholiks. Album song Bar Tab, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 04.08.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Tunecore
Song language: English
W.L.I.X |
(first 0:52 -- small club, Liks performing live |
next 0:20 -- sounds of clinking ice cubes, drinks being poured) |
Voodoo — Alright, we’re back on WLIX this is Voodoo and uh E-Swift — Aiyyo, they came down, you know |
I know y’all get asses all the time |
But do me this favor |
I want y’all to bust the freestyles for us I wanna know who’s first up, you freestyle? |
Tash — Yo yo, we got Crackerjack from the Loot Pack |
about to se this shit off, ay Crackerjack |
Set it off. |
I know we on the radio, yo Crackerjack |
set it off |
Verse One: Crackerjack |
Ya dumb dunce it goes once upon the rhyme, Jack is out |
to clench a fist and drop flows that gets papes like The Abyss |
All in this, freestyle’s wild when I’m throwin this |
Non-bogus brothers shake the hip and toe and just |
Get involved, roll with the sould, make the head nod |
Look at the bash slash back I kick the abstract |
Make brothers say «Damn, that rap’s fat,"recline that ass back |
A smack-back and slap from Wild Child with the ramshack |
I used to pick up the damn slack bed on the r&s back |
in the days, when Eric, was in the, honey phase |
Nowadays, turn in applications |
Rockin the Appalachians with the ladies with the sexy activations |
on the Blackwatch, I own a black watch, although I’m Blackwatch |
You want to, confront who? |
A microphone check one two |
Complicated for ya I got the naps that break the pics |
Plus the props from the Liks |
Ha haa, Loot Pack’s on the rise |
Sayin, «Liks liks liks boy, run your backside» |
Yo, J-Ro, Mad Lib, my man |
Just, get on the mic and please arise the jam |
Verse Two: Mad Lib, J-RO |
I bust the animated suspension, vocabulary wack MC prevention |
My division is itchin for the switch |
Pitchin upon the West coast, the best brad and boast |
Bragadocious, ferocious emotional osmosis |
I skip like a stone when I lake over a break |
I rip microphones and I take over the fake creWWWs |
I wish I could sing like Smokey do But I’m vocally locin with the Loot Pack crew |
I’m Mad Lib, the bad kid, brothers try to do wht I did |
Back in junior high, cause I’m fly with my Vocabulary tradition, total chaos rhythmatic |
static, in fact they case erase so stay off |
Cause nobody knows how it goes with the flows |
and rows of hoes froze, chosen bust erosion on the lows when |
The ill speak, plus the Liks knot thick |
Mad quick to rock ya lip, like hip-hop to grits |
But yo freak this, I come with uniqueness |
I’m like Pepe LePew yo, hoes are my weakness |
Back in high school you didn’t think I could get nifty |
Now I’m on your magazine rack down at Thrifty |
Since eighty-three I been housin folks |
All the way from Orange Country out to Thousand Oaks |
It ain’t a, nother rapper in the country who can crunch me If you don’t believe me, run up and try to punch me I flip the funk like Monk, Higgins when I’m diggin |
I’m swiggin on a Snapple cause my crew be wicked when we gig it I rock the mad vocab, when my toe jabs I’m so bad |
I make you flow bad, like when I blow lads to pieces |
Verse Three: Tash |
No releases on the two steel wheels |
Comes the lyrical skills that kills more ducks than oils spills |
My niggaz run for the hills, I can track em through the mountains |
Rico kick that kind of shit that got more bounce than Roger Troutman |
So passs the weed to the top top seed |
With lyrics as deadly as the VD’s that make ya lungs bleed |
Plus I dig like coal miners through the crates of old timers |
I be blowin up the spot like dynamite with one-liners |
Oh reminde, r to my ex-bitch when I find ya |
I’ma smack you for them times I had to start sixty-nine |
Yes on the low, my nigga with the hat to the back |
Get on the mic and show these niggaz where you at Verse Four: Wild Child |
Here I am doing shows, wall to wall |
Nate stacks tall I still won’t fall |
Never will I be sellout poverty, some don’t believe in me Still I get my verbs on, my verse on, I raps long |
You’re dead wrong, all in all should say the sale starts |
when A&R says go, you start with the dope verse |
and you’re sold, now you’re on clearance when the record starts sellin |
But I’m not willin, to be uncovered from the depths of the under |
I’m under, for the duration |
The past present future revelation |
I gain the trunks of those who comprehend |
Because the know I send niggaz through the other end |
Of this industry, commercial side envies me Females are freakin me, no time for em At least not yet, just a few that I will call bitch |
I’m not a player, strict rhyme sayer, say your prayers |
Now I lay me down to sleep |
Don’t sleep, I’m on the creep |
To invade the holes of the ill-minded |
I find it’s fat, rewind it back slack, not here boy |
Wack to the skull-crack when I attack |
Unleasing crazy chaos you’re way off, so stay off |
I’m about to blast off |
Outro: |
J-Ro — Word is bond! |
On this snoop babe, that’s how we do it |
(YouknowhatI'msayin?) And that’s how we do it, on KLI, K What is this? |
KLIX? |
Oh yeah |
Where we at again? |
Ah it don’t matter, we rock it for the whole world anyway |
Tash — Yo we gotta give a shout out, a shout out |
J-Ro — Can we give a shout out? |
E-Swift — I’d like to give a shout out to everybody that’s listening |
to this radio station right now, I hope you got your tapes |
on record cause you know we just flippin |
J-Ro — Everybody that’s down with real hip-hop |
West coast East coast North and South |