Intro: Tash

Yes yes yes yes yes yeah-he-ha-ha-ha!

Back to drown ya'll motherfuckaz!

Who we got, we got, we got

We got the Liks, we got the Liks, we got the Liks

Cause MC's in ninety-five, MC's in ninety-five

MC's in ninety-five that think they rock like

MC's in ninety-five, MC's in ninety-five

MC's in ninety-five that swear they rock live

Verse One:

MC's in ninety-five they need way more rehearsin

They write they booty kyrics then they add they little curse in

YOu're not a true hip-hop person

Spend a little time with your rhymes and quit makin wack versions

I send this shit out to all them niggaz from that group

With the ninety minute demo sounding just like Snoop

You better bizzay, your ass up out my rhyme zone

Fore I leave you on the ground broke up like pine cones

You're rootin and tootin but ain't did no shootin

while the freshest hip-hop, it curses verses like a wicked witch

Disaster, cock the rhyme flows back to kill

To get me out your system takes more than Golden Seal

Cause I bust so many flows I gotta file my shit in columns

while MC's be goin down like Olympiads that slalom, rock-bottom

I got em, left without no watchers

While I be housin niggaz like they put up for adoption

I rock loaded, I never get promoted

But through the bullshit my crew stays devoted

While you be bustin lyrics bout the funs y'all niggaz toted

I'll be standin like a b-boy with both arms folded

But no exucses, I still get the loosest

When RIco's in the house tryin to grab the mic and juice this

So back the fuck up like we told you last time

Cause it's the Liks in the house with the ninety-five rhymes

Chorus: Repeat 4X

We can do out thing (we can do our thing), bottoms up!

Verse Two: J-Ro

I wake up, kill a roach, call the homies, hit some weights

Reminesce about the shows we did in fourty-eight states

Banned in the rest, but we was on tour with who

De La, and Quest, we made the crowd say yes (yes)

Now it's like fuck, Make Room, move your ass out my way

Bay-bee, bay-bee

WIth all these hoes around clwon, why you wanna bang?

Let's have a celebration like Kool and the Gang

I bring it all the way back, like a punk return

I rock some spots and call more shots than Chick Hearns

The only MC I like is Amante

I was drinkin Asi Spumante wit cha auntie

Bust them lyrics shots from the AKG

When it comes to style and finesse, I'm the epitome

Hit a beat, make em all retire, flyer

higher than a jet, like Stet I'm on fire

Causin pain like a runaway train you don't stop

Drop the track, now watch it flow back to the top

I'm the J-R-O, not J-E-R-U

And you know what we came to do, bottoms up!

Chorus

Verse Three: King Tee

When you hear screams, that means King Tee walked in

The advertisement, and that nigga's bent

Raise up off the wall, bitches Last Call

Ready for the ruckus, pushin motherfuckers off the stage

Teela's got a brand new gauge

So Make Room, for the crew with beats that

I got a complex I guess I bust best with stress

A mess, don't bring that shit to the West, cause

Uhhh, I bring drama, like Jeffery Dahmer

Choppin up MC's with they mama

Ah-hah! Oops I made a funny with the dozens

The one-est, who busts rough rhymes for the cousins

Super Nigga's comin! Faster than a bullet

Leapin over buildings, wavin at the children

And don't even trip cause the Alkaholiks funk don't cease

Tash I'm up out this piece

Chorus (repeat until fades