Verse One: Tash
Caps get peeled rolling in my force field
Like a nine with hollow points I keep rap flows concealed
So when you walkin down the block you better watch who you approachin
I'm not your R&B singer, so ain't no need for vocal coachin
Just a forty and a roach and I'll evict you out the units
While y'all n***as couldn't move me if you worked for Starvin Students
Downin all beer types, from St. Ide's to Red Stripe (yipes!)
The man that's stuffin mics down motherf**ers windpipes
Has returrrrned, to burrrrn, it's time y'all n***as learrrrrn
I neaturalize y'all n***as like relaxer in a perm
With flows that go against the grain with a story so compellin
I should mind The People's Court, snatch the mic from Doug Llewellyn
And host my own show, after Bill Cosby comes Ricooooo!
Transmitting live to all my black people
Catch my drift, I'm down with my n***a E-Swift
My name is Tash, I'm from the group that you don't wanna f** with
Never shy, sippin on some why ask why
Smokin thai with this b**h that's more fly than Jasmine Guy
Hooked up with John Q so let me do my thiiing
While n***as rock that played sh** that they bought from Chess King
But still, I train rhymes to flip like a seal
n***as say my rhyme sk** on the steel is unreal
But all I do is chill and swing it when I bring it
Oh sh** that's my n***a show these n***as how you sing it
Verse Two: Q-Tip
I bring it to your chest pa all the way live
We deliver ill verses guaranteed to cause hives
When we start rappin heads roll like Patton
What the f** bloodclot the Alkaholiks rhyme a lot
Yo I'm like Grimace when I'm on this rap scrimmage
ANd I got this magic wand to make your puny soul diminish
The Abstract delivers, I be the Queens n***a on point
Mary Jane ain't nuttin but a joint
They called a n***a up to add a little bit of flavor
Now I'm cuttin and slashin like Luke's light saber
Yeah, what? You trapped in the zone
Where MC's get seared and all spots blown
And in this rap sh** a n***a need to be thicky
I f** with the crew who downs the deuce deuce Mickey's
I'm from the rotten apple, y'all n***as can't grapple
And love to the Liks, hit your a** like a tackle
[Pow, bust my liquid-a** style
Peace to Mad Lib and my n***a Wild Child]
Verse Three: J-Ro
Yo put in the disc E
While I hit the whiskey
[Bust a rhyme off the head J]
The n***a missed me
I'm in this rap game so I'mma aim to be best
It's fresh, but off the head it's like the dunk contest
I don't walk the street, I roll my Jeep in an instant
I rock the beat to sleep like an infant
The Likwit crew, comin like this on you
With that four minute Olde English piss on you
You're bustin dumb raps off the cap, oh sh**
But I got the pen and pad locked down like a pit
I let the ink submerge into the thin wood sheets
Beats make my head bop, so I'mma rock it for the streets
I fill all my days with big bu*ts and boom
I let my pants hand cause my big nuts need room
I'm not old school, or new school, I'm modern school, I'm ditchin
When my girl starts b**hin I gets hot like a kitchen
I fly down like the Chi-town wind
Cause I got the iller noise to make the hardcore grin
When, the saints come marchin in
I'mma roll right by em in the fly Lincoln
Roughneck n***as wanna box me down
Cause I got the ladies lookin like Foxy Brown
The Liks bring the beer Tip sticks it in your earholes
I drop the mic and strike the Heisman pose
Verse Four: King Tee
Hardcore G, I get hardcore man
From the underland a f**in wonderman, bam
Lunatic potential, an isperential differential
Confidentially smashin instrumentals
On this tune I bring raps of doom to the mic
And put my rear sh** in flight, peep
If the drunk funk don't wanna hump in your trunk
Man you got some motherf**in junk