Q-tip - All the Way Live lyrics

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