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)