Got It Bad Y'all Lyrics

Intro:

Ladies and gentleman, that nigga king tee and the al-cum-a-holiks

Verse one: j-ro

Pooh-butts play the rear cause I'm makin yapes
The rhymes ain't no thicker than a, skittle grapes
A lot of girls would like to thank me, for the hanky-panky
On the mic I hold a belt, now I know no one could spank me
It took a long time for the people, to hear my rhymes
Seems like I been rappin since my birth in '69
Sorry to keep you waitin, I run rhymes like walter payton
I get a rhyme like spokes on a dayton
But I won't knock off, because I just rock off
The beats to get funky, like when you take your sock off
To all the white folks I would like to say howdy
And to all my brothers I say peace quit actin rowdy
Wack mcs in ninety-two, ew you need to take a rest
The public don't you aim the best you're softer than a hookers chest
Raps, I make em, snaps, I make em
For duties movin booties cause I shake shake shake em
And I got rhymes, funky funky rhymes
E-swift hold the needle down with nickels and dimes
I drink olde english, st. ide's and mickeys
When it's time to roll I throw on my black d**keys
On the mic I get wicked, like wilson pickett
I get the place jumpin like a cricket when I kick shit
I'm from the west coast but don't sleep home-stimpy
Even if I was a paperboy you still couldn't rip me
I walk up and chalk up pairs like the knicks
I'm all in the mix like snares, and kicks
When it comes to rhymes I get loose like belt buckles
Those who chose to oppose this nose is felt knuckles

(where you goin' to? ) to the tip
(and what cha bout to do? ) bout to rip
Some people use the word funky too loosely
And just how many rappers say they kick it like bruce lee
(what's your favorite brew? ) olde e
(and what it make you do? ) go pee
It used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes
Now rappers rearrangin, and changin like times
I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all
I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all

Verse two: e-swift

Back the f**k up, gimme room to breath
Not too many niggaz can flip the rhymes like these
I freak the technique as if it was a bitch
Got more soul than the pit with a fifth
Pitch the ball, so I can beat it with the bat
Talk some shit, so I can smoke ya with my gat
I'm feelin kind feelin kinda feelin kinda feelin kinda
Feelin kinda buzzed off a sack of chocolate tie
My my my ho, I like to rip the shows up
Smack the hoes that walk around with they nose up
Run to the liquor store, before they close up
Buy a few 40s, cause daily I get to' up
Sit at the crib and write riggy riggy rhymes
Line after line after liggy liggy line
Yo I can get funky, buy my tape and bump me
To the break of dawn I hit the bud and pa*s it on
Hangin at the park, shootin craps on the weekend
My brown bag is wet cause my tall can is leakin
Starin at the cops, beatin up on rodney
While a pack of o.g.'s steppin to me tryin to rob me
Just because I'm dope, niggaz wanna smoke me
On the mic I get funky while you're doin the hokey-pokey
Dance steps, I think that you should leave to paula
Alkaholiks is the shit, e-swift's the smooth bawler
Is slangin these rhymes like a rock
Life ain't shit but money and a glock
Don't punch a clock, but I cock a fat knot
So I can smoke a lot of pot that I roll up with tops
And ya ain't heard shit yet, I'm just gettin warm
Like hot butter on, say what? , the popcorn
I'm headed to the top, please give me my props
My beats are fat as f**k so bump my shit in your box
I love to hit the skinz, but then again who doesn't
I love to hit the herbs cause it leave me feelin buzzin
I dedicate this chumpie to the poets who can wreck
And to all the nottie dreads I gots to give them nuff respect

(where you goin' to? ) to the tip
(and what cha bout to do? ) bout to rip
Some people use the word funky too loosely
And just how many niggaz say they kick it like bruce lee
(what's your favorite brew? ) olde e
(and what it make you do? ) go pee
It used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes
Now rappers rearrangin, and changin like times
I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all
I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all

Verse three: king tee

Up jumps the man with the loot
Rockin like a troop with the alkaholik group
Everything is kosher, got a little taller
Livin kinda phat cause king tee's a bawler
I just, irritate the wack, leave em so confused
When I'm checkin on the mic with the ones and twos
Sneak you a peek of the drunk technique
Can't stand up, need to take a seat
Baby baby baby it's the alkaholiks
But I can freak the mic no matter how ya call it
Metaphors grand, and I'm the great man
Drink a whole fifth yes I can yes I can can
The girls call me d**k-em-down
Got that title rockin for the crown
Catch y'all later, around next weekend
I'm a alkaholik and I'm late for my meeting

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