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 forties 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 Come here 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 every time like peas from Jolly Green Every time 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 whackest two bitches Look flyer than the hyenas and the low-rider 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, and 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, whack 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 emcees up and throw em in my burrito What? Never interrupt me when I'm speakin' Just sit your ass down and say, "We all" 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 want to 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 A few for your crew, 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)