Lyrics Tha Alkaholiks

Tha Alkaholiks

Pass Out

Ahh! Y'all niggaz finally came back with the beers!

We're the Alkaholiks in the house!

Slow ass niggaz!

Hey let's pass out some of this brew James

Better have some 40's and tall cans and shit

James let's pass some of this brew out, check it out, yo

One for you One for you

One for you One for you

A few for your crew And this one's for you

One for you But this here is my brew

It's the beer drinkin, breath stinkin sniffin money

I throw my hands up and say, "It's good" like Gene Tunny

C'mere pull my finger, so I can let the funk flow

E-Swift the funk bro, beats to make the trunk roll

Welcome to the house the one-times can't raid

where I grab the mic trippin like my weed was sprayed

So to try to take what's mine you better be the smoothest criminality

cause I'm deadly to the point I had to warn the Surgeon General

So let the women know, they call Captain Slave-a-Hoe

or J to the Ro, from Tha Likwit crew beer roll

And speakin of crews, yo whose next to lose

Instead of five mics, I'd rather have five brews

And if y'all niggaz peeped the news you saw the weatherman predictin

the rain was on the way because you know who brings Tha Likwit

The nigga risked it, rap exquisite down for housing

cause I'm tryin to keep it pumpin til the year two thousand

and fourteen, we'll still be holdin down the scene

Comin fresh everytime like peas from Jolly Green

Everytime we rock a show we send the crowd to detoxes

Tha Liks bring the flicks that kicks like six oxes

And I be rockin niggaz boxers like I'm DJ "Run"

So men and women rush my music like it's CK One

So of course I got it locked even my wackest two bitches

look flyer than the heinas and the lowrider bitches

And we left you all in stitches now we back like early morn

We comin back out on that shit like creamed corn

with that Likwit funk, won't stop until you say uhh

I save a brew for you, fool, Only When I'm Drunk

So what you sayin punk, even with a shipment of equipment

you still couldn't rock it cause you don't be comin different

So that bruisin you was cruisin for has just arrived

with the Olde English crack just to make it live

One for you One for you

One for you One for you

A few for your crew This one's for you

Damn we runnin out of brew Now what we gonna do?

Three drunk motherfuckers goin round the outside

Round the outside, round the outside

Three drunk motherfuckers goin round the outside

(So dosey do your partner!)

Can you feel it? YEAH

If you didn't have it would you steal it? HELL YEAH

Well it's yours!

My rap skills are black like burnt hills

on the reals, I make the coldest nigga catch the chills

Like the Buffalo Bills, you had your chances (that's right)

Pack your pots and pans, and fly your ass back to Kansas

I should Diss You, wack rhymes are the issue

I come up with hooks that'll pull out your tissue

Like Tito, white kids think I'm neato

I chop MC's up and throw em in my burrito

WHAT? Never interrupt me when I'm speakin

Just sit your ass down and say, "Weallll" like a Deacon

Fuck the trendy clothes I want the bankrolls

Your style is funny like hoes with big butts and skinny ankles

And havin shoes or where their coats is, right under our noses

Cause Tash brings the chronic, so fuck a dozen roses

Talk they feet out sweep em from the second that I peep em

cause the women look so good I wanna take em home and keep em

Freak em, but only with my Jimmy well protected

cause I know you want it raw but I can't give it to ya naked

So chill for a second while I wreck it on the Audi

Cause I kick that kinda shit that leaves y'all bitches brains cloudy

Now we, come to the payoff because I'm way off

I fuck parties up like Ferris Bueller on his Day Off

So peep how I creep and how deep I dive

with the Olde English crack just to make it live

One for you One for you

One for you One for you

One for you And this one's for you

Damn we out of fuckin brew Then fuck it, then we through

Three drunk motherfuckers goin round the outside

Round the outside, round the outside

Three drunk motherfuckers goin round the outside

... once again

Three drunk motherfuckers goin round the outside

Round the outside, round the outside

Three drunk motherfuckers goin round the outside

... and we gonna fuck it up; motherfuckers

Yeah that's right, go keep all your hoes motherfuckers

It's 1996, Likwit crew, Alkaholiks, King Tee

Xzibit, Phil Da Agony, Defari

Uhh, a.k.a. the Forty Downers

What y'all know about this?

West coast hip-hop at it's motherfuckin finest

(uhh, Phil Da Ag in the house)

Forty To Da Head in the house

(X to the Z in the house)

E-Swift on the beat

(and Barber Shop in the house)

Need I say more?

(West coast, East coast)

Hell no!

(All over the world, and we out)