Intro:
  
  Ladies and gentleman, that nigga King Tee and the al-cum-a-holiks
  
  Verse One: J-Ro
  
  Pooh-butts play the rear cause I'm makin yapes
  The rhymes ain't no thicker than a, skittle grapes
  A lot of girls would like to thank me, for the hanky-panky
  On the mic I hold a belt, now I know no one could spank me
  It took a long time for the people, to hear my rhymes
  Seems like I been rappin since my birth in '69
  Sorry to keep you waitin, I run rhymes like Walter Payton
  I get a rhyme like spokes on a Dayton
  But I won't knock off, because I just rock off
  the beats to get funky, like when you take your sock off
  To all the white folks I would like to say howdy
  And to all my brothers I say peace quit actin rowdy
  Wack MCs in ninety-two, ew you need to take a rest
  the public don't you aim the best you're softer than a hookers chest
  raps, I make em, snaps, I make em
  For duties movin booties cause I shake shake shake em
  And I got rhymes, funky funky rhymes
  E-Swift hold the needle down with nickels and dimes
  I drink Olde English, St. Ide's and Mickeys
  When it's time to roll I throw on my black dickeys
  On the mic I get wicked, like Wilson Pickett
  I get the place jumpin like a cricket when I kick shit
  I'm from the West coast but don't sleep home-stimpy
  Even if I was a paperboy you still couldn't rip me
  I walk up and chalk up pairs like the Knicks
  I'm all in the mix like snares, and kicks
  When it comes to rhymes I get loose like belt buckles
  Those who chose to oppose this nose is felt knuckles
  
  (Where you goin' to?) To the tip
  (And what cha bout to do?) Bout to rip
  Some people use the word funky too loosely
  And just how many rappers say they kick it like Bruce Lee
  (What's your favorite brew?) Olde E
  (And what it make you do?) Go pee
  It used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes
  Now rappers rearrangin, and changin like times
  I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
  When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all
  I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
  When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all
  
  Verse Two: E-Swift
  
  Back the fuck up, gimme room to breath
  Not too many niggaz can flip the rhymes like these
  I freak the technique as if it was a bitch
  Got more soul than the pit with a fifth
  Pitch the ball, so I can beat it with the bat
  Talk some shit, so I can smoke ya with my gat
  I'm feelin kind feelin kinda feelin kinda feelin kinda
  feelin kinda buzzed off a sack of chocolate tie
  My my my ho, I like to rip the shows up
  Smack the hoes that walk around with they nose up
  Run to the liquor store, before they close up
  Buy a few 40s, cause daily I get to' up
  Sit at the crib and write RIGGY RIGGY rhymes
  Line after line after LIGGY LIGGY line
  Yo I can get funky, buy my tape and bump me
  To the break of dawn I hit the bud and pass it on
  Hangin at the park, shootin craps on the weekend
  My brown bag is wet cause my tall can is leakin
  Starin at the cops, beatin up on Rodney
  While a pack of O.G.'s steppin to me tryin to rob me
  Just because I'm dope, niggaz wanna smoke me
  On the mic I get funky while you're doin the hokey-pokey
  Dance steps, I think that you should leave to Paula
  Alkaholiks is the shit, E-Swift's the smooth bawler
  Is slangin these rhymes like a rock
  Life ain't shit but money and a glock
  Don't punch a clock, but I cock a fat knot
  So I can smoke a lot of pot that I roll up with tops
  And ya ain't heard shit yet, I'm just gettin warm
  Like hot butter on, SAY WHAT?, THE POPCORN
  I'm headed to the top, please give me my props
  My beats are fat as fuck so bump my shit in your box
  I love to hit the skinz, but then again WHO DOESN'T
  I love to hit the herbs cause it leave me feelin buzzin
  I dedicate this chumpie to the poets who can wreck
  And to all the nottie dreads I gots to give them nuff respect
  
  (Where you goin' to?) To the tip
  (And what cha bout to do?) Bout to rip
  Some people use the word funky too loosely
  And just how many niggaz say they kick it like Bruce Lee
  (What's your favorite brew?) Olde E
  (And what it make you do?) Go pee
  It used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes
  Now rappers rearrangin, and changin like times
  I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
  When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all
  I got it bad y'all, I got it bad y'all
  When it comes to the pen and the pad y'all
  
  Verse Three: King Tee
  
  Up jumps the man with the loot
  Rockin like a troop with the Alkaholik group
  Everything is kosher, got a little taller
  Livin kinda phat cause King Tee's a bawler
  I just, irritate the wack, leave em so confused
  When I'm checkin on the mic with the ones and twos
  Sneak you a peek of the drunk technique
  Can't stand up, need to take a seat
  Baby baby baby it's the Alkaholiks
  But I can freak the mic no matter how ya call it
  Metaphors grand, and I'm the great man
  Drink a whole fifth YES I CAN YES I CAN CAN
  The girls call me dick-em-down
  Got that title rockin for the crown
  Catch y'all later, around next weekend
  I'm a Alkaholik and I'm late for my meeting