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Got it Bad Y'all (Featuring Tha Liks)

Ladies and gentleman

That nigga King Tee and the Al-cum-a-holiksPooh-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 meIt 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 DaytonBut 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 rowdyWack MCs in 92, 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 emAnd 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 DickeysOn 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 meI 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 timesI 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'allBack the fuck up, gimme room to breathe

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 fifthPitch 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 tieMy, 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' upSit 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 pass it onHangin 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 meJust 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 ballerIs 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 topsAnd ya ain't heard shit yet, I'm just getting 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 fuck, so bump my shit in your boxI love to hit the skinz, but then again who doesnt

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 timesI 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'allUp 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 balerI 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 seatBaby, 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 canThe girls call me dick-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

Songwriters

James Robinson;Eric Brooks;Roger McbridePublished by

COLGEMS-EMI MUSIC INC Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

Enjoy the lyrics !!!