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Intro: Tash 
Yes yes yes yes yes yeah-he-ha-ha-ha! 
Back to drown ya'll motherfuckaz! 
Who we got, we got, we got 
We got the Liks, we got the Liks, we got the Liks 
Cause MC's in ninety-five, MC's in ninety-five 
MC's in ninety-five that think they rock like 
MC's in ninety-five, MC's in ninety-five 
MC's in ninety-five that swear they rock live 
Verse One: 
MC's in ninety-five they need way more rehearsin 
They write they booty kyrics then they add they little curse in 
YOu're not a true hip-hop person 
Spend a little time with your rhymes and quit makin wack versions 
I send this shit out to all them niggaz from that group 
With the ninety minute demo sounding just like Snoop 
You better bizzay, your ass up out my rhyme zone 
Fore I leave you on the ground broke up like pine cones 
You're rootin and tootin but ain't did no shootin 
while the freshest hip-hop, it curses verses like a wicked witch 
Disaster, cock the rhyme flows back to kill 
To get me out your system takes more than Golden Seal 
Cause I bust so many flows I gotta file my shit in columns 
while MC's be goin down like Olympiads that slalom, rock-bottom 
I got em, left without no watchers 
While I be housin niggaz like they put up for adoption 
I rock loaded, I never get promoted 
But through the bullshit my crew stays devoted 
While you be bustin lyrics bout the funs y'all niggaz toted 
I'll be standin like a b-boy with both arms folded 
But no exucses, I still get the loosest 
When RIco's in the house tryin to grab the mic and juice this 
So back the fuck up like we told you last time 
Cause it's the Liks in the house with the ninety-five rhymes 
Chorus: Repeat 4X 
We can do out thing (we can do our thing), bottoms up! 
Verse Two: J-Ro 
I wake up, kill a roach, call the homies, hit some weights 
Reminesce about the shows we did in fourty-eight states 
Banned in the rest, but we was on tour with who 
De La, and Quest, we made the crowd say yes (yes) 
Now it's like fuck, Make Room, move your ass out my way 
Bay-bee, bay-bee 
WIth all these hoes around clwon, why you wanna bang? 
Let's have a celebration like Kool and the Gang 
I bring it all the way back, like a punk return 
I rock some spots and call more shots than Chick Hearns 
The only MC I like is Amante 
I was drinkin Asi Spumante wit cha auntie 
Bust them lyrics shots from the AKG 
When it comes to style and finesse, I'm the epitome 
Hit a beat, make em all retire, flyer 
higher than a jet, like Stet I'm on fire 
Causin pain like a runaway train you don't stop 
Drop the track, now watch it flow back to the top 
I'm the J-R-O, not J-E-R-U 
And you know what we came to do, bottoms up! 
Chorus 
Verse Three: King Tee 
When you hear screams, that means King Tee walked in 
The advertisement, and that nigga's bent 
Raise up off the wall, bitches Last Call 
Ready for the ruckus, pushin motherfuckers off the stage 
Teela's got a brand new gauge 
So Make Room, for the crew with beats that 
I got a complex I guess I bust best with stress 
A mess, don't bring that shit to the West, cause 
Uhhh, I bring drama, like Jeffery Dahmer 
Choppin up MC's with they mama 
Ah-hah! Oops I made a funny with the dozens 
The one-est, who busts rough rhymes for the cousins 
Super Nigga's comin! Faster than a bullet 
Leapin over buildings, wavin at the children 
And don't even trip cause the Alkaholiks funk don't cease 
Tash I'm up out this piece 
Chorus (repeat until fades)

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