[00:02.835] |
(Tash) What's yo' name? |
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What's yo' naaaaaame? |
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(ODB) *burp* My name is, Ol Dirty Bastard, and I'mma Alkaholik |
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(Tash) Yeah me too nigga |
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(ODB) Ahhhhhhh |
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(Tash) You're now rockin' with Tha Liks so start reachin' for the ozone |
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I see some girls I know but y'all look different with your clothes on |
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What's up though, Tash came to steal it like the Grinch |
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While I'm leavin' niggas puzzled like I said my shit in French |
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But it's all Olde English that I'm bringin' from beneath |
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Try to bite my style on wax and watch these lyrics crack your teeth |
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Cause I make words Connect like West Side when I test glide |
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My drunken lyrical hanglider, nobody's tighter |
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Than a ruff rap provider, with ninety ways to peel ya |
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So I know the three words (Tash'll kill ya) sound familiar |
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I filter out the weak everytime I speak |
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I drink to hit the peak to make my mind go (beep) |
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I'm def-da-fyin', you rappin' like my client |
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Tryin' to scrape me for the style that slam harder than Kobe Bryant |
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Be quiet! This is Likwidation from the West |
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Motherfuck ya boozy show, I got my own special guest |
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(ODB) Yo, yo, breaker breaker breaker one-nine |
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I bust this bitch in the behind with the silver shine |
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Cause she thought she was fine |
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She winked at me, I thought it was fine |
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This nigga poutin', this ho' was mine |
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I had the alcohol in me, took my time |
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Let a nigga ro-tate turn on the table |
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Put in the diamond needle, pull it to your ego |
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What? You the king in the chair on my ground |
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The Tyson of sound, it's twenty seconds to a round |
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Scavenger nigga, you's a shrimp, a full line of shit |
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My ear can't digest it |
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Stop drinkin' all that motherfuckin' water, let's take it to the land |
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So I can Godzilla up your sheeit, Mr. Tiny Tim man |
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Niggas be creepin' up my beanstalk |
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When I start to come down on your fuckin' asses |
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Try to chip shit on up, get these nuts |
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Motherfucker WHAT!! |
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(J-Ro)The Ro pimped the flow like a ho |
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So I should rap on the mack-raphone |
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My rhymes hittin' hard enough to crack a bone |
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I divide square MC's like math |
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Bend you in half and drink a Genuine Draft |
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I stop him, then I skied out with all wampum |
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When he's layin' on the ground, I let my Dog Scrilla chop him |
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(Switch reels) I feels its all about skills |
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The outcome's unbelievable like Tyson/Holyfield |
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Your lyrics are loaners return em to they rightful owners |
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My style is wild, like G's or the pistolas |
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No need to ask, I put you on like a ski mask |
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We can Fight the Power like this was P.E. class |
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I Bomb Squads like Hank Shock |
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Peace to my nigga Scott puttin' stickers on the block |
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*burp* I drink more Brewsters than Punky |
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It's the further adventures of the hip-hop drunkies |
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You bitches are hoes |
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Put it in ya neck my motherfuckin' ho |
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Or in your butt hole |
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Wherever the fuck it goes |
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You bitches are hoes |
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Put it in ya neck my motherfuckin' ho |
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Or in your ear hole |
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Wherever the fuck it goes |
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(ODB)Yeah, yo, yo, yo |
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No disrespect to any architect |
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Who tried to perfect, oh what the heck |
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I'm a MC director, rhyme inspector |
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Rated top ten, Brooklyn borough sector |
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(J-Ro)It's the Packtown original b-boy I'm rappin' |
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What's happenin', so dope got the pope clappin' |
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I'm smackin', on some chicken, what you kickin' |
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You trickin', while I'm vickin' hoes you stick your dick in |
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(Tash) Step outta place, Tash'll smack your taste out your face |
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Cause there's nowhere to hide unless you move to outer space |
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Cause I waste motherfuckers like toxic fumes |
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So you betta (make room) when you hear the (boom boom) |
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(Ol Dirty rapping like RZA) Hey sugar plum |
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How can you assume |
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That the pitch of the volume, doesn't have no tune |
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I'm not your everyday, regular rap star peddler |
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One on one at your rap seminar |
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Beware of the Hard Way, Three's the Hard Way |
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At you fuckers |
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(J-Ro)So aiyyo, my name is J-Ro |
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And my style is so dope they call it ya-yo |
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I don't rap fast, I love green grass |
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Nuttin' nice on the mic, call me a mean ass |
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(Ol Dirty) Extra da-llama, bring hahaha |
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Extra extra bring the da-llama |
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Verse a better one, then slice-a-versa |
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God acre, massacre murdered |
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Also known as a rap wrecka, not a rhyme rebel |
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You're just rhyme to survive streets |
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True beaters, minerals and rhymes survive lyrics |
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Like the acre without the attic, but not the only Asiatic |
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True God but my dick is my lightnin' rob |
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Ho don't kick that mumbo jumbo |
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(Tesh) See this the type of shit niggas don't try at home |
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I come funkin' up the spot like Micheal Jordan's cologne |
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With the mega drunken, style to keep the crowd pumpin' |
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Niggas lookin' at me like, 'Tash is up to somethin' |
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(Get drunk and I stumbled) but I didn't come to trip |
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I came to bring it to ya humb-le |
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Tumb-le all your plots and all your plans |
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Ol Dirty's in the house and that's my motherfuckin' man! |
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It's the Likwid crew |
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Comin' through with Ol Dirty from the Wu |
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Passin' your party, jettin' out with all the brew |
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So what y'all new, niggas think you wanna do? |
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It's the Likwid crew |
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Comin' through with Ol' Dirty from the Wu |
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Passin' your party, jettin' out with all the brew |
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So what y'all new, niggas think you wanna do? |