#j ro

Every time I come home, I got fifty messages; I only call back the girls with big big breastesses. Ooh, I got bitties, in all the major cities; The safest way to have sex is right between her (titties).

*West Coast Wednesday!*

Up jumps the man with the loot, Rocking like a troop with the Alkaholik group. Everything is kosher, got a little taller; Living kinda phat ‘cause King Tee's a baller.

Baby baby baby I might flip, Got to get it on, let my backbone slip. If I fall back then give me some gas; If you try to play me I’ll bust dat ass.

I'm the brown bomber dropping verbal scuds; I write rhymes while my mama peel the skin off the spuds. This ain't baseball, nah, the Liks won't slump, So make room, for the crew with beats that hump.

I walk through a rainstorm, I didn't even get wet; I was bailing through Hell, I didn't even bust a sweat. So you must have a locomotive, I mean a crazy reason To wanna step up in sucker-punk season.

It goes one for the chronic, two for the amnesia - It's the pimp-slap niggy with drinks in the freezer. Bust the one out, two out, (flips!) type of rapper, That'd get you our your seat quicker than a carjacker.

I didn't grow dreads, 'cause dreads is for the rastas; Tha Alkaholik clique straight knockin' out imposters. Gots to roll deep like ants at a picnic; Get with the crew that's flowin’ like Likwit.