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)