Hip Hop Drunkies Lyrics by Tha Alkaholiks

Hip Hop Drunkies Lyrics

    [Tash] What's yo' name?
    What's yo' naaaaaame?
    [ODB] *burp* My name is, Ol Dirty Bastard... and I'ma Alkaholik
    [Tash] Yeah me too nigga
    [ODB] *singin some crazy shit*

    [Tash]
    You're now rockin with Tha Liks so start reachin for the ozone
    I see some girls I know but y'all look different with your clothes on
    What's up though, Tash came to steal it like the Grinch
    While I'm leavin niggaz puzzled like I said my shit in French
    But it's all Olde English that I'm bringin from beneath
    Try to bite my style on wax and watch these lyrics crack your teeth
    Cause I make words Connect like Westside when I test glide
    my drunken lyrical hanglider, nobody's tighter
    than a ruff rap provider, with ninety ways to peel ya
    So I know the three words (Tash'll kill ya) sound familiar
    I filter out the weak everytime I speak
    I drink to hit the peak to make my mind go (beep)
    I'm def-da-fyin, you rappin like my client
    Tryin to scrape me for the style that slam harder than Kobe Bryant
    BE QUIET! This is Likwidation from the West
    Motherfuck ya boozy show, I got my own special guest

    [Ol Dirty Bastard]
    Yo, yo, breaker breaker breaker one-nine
    I bust this bitch in the behind with the silver shine
    Cause she thought she was fine
    She winked at me, I thought it was fine
    This nigga poutin, this hoe was mine
    I had the alcohol in me, took my time
    Let a nigga ro-tate turn on the table
    Put in the diamond needle, pull it to your ego
    What? You the king in the chair on my ground
    The Tyson of sound, it's twenty seconds to a round
    Scavenger nigga, youse a shrimp, a full line of shit
    my ear can't digest it
    Stop drinkin all that motherfuckin water, let's take it to the land
    So I can Godzilla up your sheeit, Mr. Tiny Tim man
    Niggaz be creepin up my beanstalk
    When I start to come down on your fuckin asses
    Try to chip shit on up, get these nuts
    Motherfucker WHAT!!

    [J-Ro]
    The Ro pimped the flow like a hoe, so I should rap on the mack-raphone
    My rhymes hittin hard enough to crack a bone
    I divide square MC's like math
    Bend you in half and drink a Genuine Draft
    I stop him, then I skied out with all wampum
    When he's layin on the ground, I let my Dog Scrilla chop him
    (Switch reels) I feels its all about skills
    The outcome's unbelievable like Tyson/Holyfield
    Your lyrics are loaners return em to they rightful owners
    My style is wild, like G's or the pistolas
    No need to ask, I put you on like a ski mask
    We can Fight the Power like this was P.E. class
    I Bomb Squads like Hank Shock
    Peace to my nigga Scott puttin stickers on the block
    *burp* I drink more Brewsters than Punky
    It's the further adventures of the hip-hop drunkies

    *chorus*
    You bithces are hoes
    Put it in ya like my motherfuckin hoe
    or in your butthole/earhole
    Whever the fuck it goes
    (repeat 2X)

    [Ol Dirty]
    Yeah, yo, yo, yo
    No disrespect to any architect
    Who tried to perfect, oh what the heck
    I'm a MC director, rhyme inspector
    Rated top ten, Brooklyn borough sector

    [J-Ro]
    Its the Packtown original b-boy I'm rappin
    What's happenin, so dope got the pope clappin
    I'm smackin, on some chicken, what you kickin
    You trickin, while I'm vickin hoes you stick your dick in

    [Tash]
    Step outta place, Tash'll smack your taste out your face
    Cause there's nowhere to hide unless you move to outer space
    Cause I waste motherfuckers like toxic fumes
    So you betta (make room) when you hear the (boom boom)

    [Ol Dirty (rapping like RZA)]
    Hey sugar plum, how can you assume
    That the pitch of the volume, doesn't have no tune
    I'm not your everyday, regular rap star peddler
    One on one at your rap seminar
    Beware of the Hard Way, Three's the Hard Way
    At you fuckers...

    [J-Ro]
    So aiyyo, my name is J-Ro
    And my style is so dope they call it ya-yo
    I don't rap fast, I love green grass
    Nuttin nice on the mic, call me a mean ass

    [Ol Dirty (still rapping like RZA)]
    Extra da-llama, bring hahaha
    Extra extra bring the da-llama
    Verse a better one, then slice-a-versa
    God acre, massacre murdered
    Also known as a rap wrecka, not a rhyme rebel
    You're just rhyme to survive streets
    True beaters, minerals and rhymes survive lyrics
    Like the acre without the attic, but not the only Asiatic
    true God but my dick is my lightning rob
    Hoe don't kick that mumbo jumbo...

    [Tash]
    See this the type of shit niggaz don't try at home
    I come funkin up the spot like Micheal Jordan's cologne
    With the megadrunken, style to keep the crowd pumpin
    Niggaz lookin at me like, 'Tash is up to somethin'
    (Get drunk and I stumbled) but I didn't come to trip
    I came to bring it to ya humb-le
    Tumb-le all your plots and all your plans
    Ol Dirty's in the house and that's my motherfuckin man!

    *outro*
    It's the Likwid crew
    Comin through with Ol Dirty from the Wu
    Passin your party, jettin out with allt he brew
    So what y'all new, niggaz think you wanna do?
    (repeat 2X)

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