King Tee - Got It Bad Y'all Lyrics
Intro:Ladies and gentleman, that nigga king tee and the al-cum-a-holiksVerse one: j-roPooh-butts play the rear cause Im makin yapesThe rhymes aint no thicker than a, skittle grapesA lot of girls would like to thank me, for the hanky-pankyOn the mic I hold a belt, now I know no one could spank meIt took a long time for the people, to hear my rhymesSeems like I been rappin since my birth in 69Sorry to keep you waitin, I run rhymes like walter paytonI get a rhyme like spokes on a daytonBut I wont knock off, because I just rock offThe beats to get funky, like when you take your sock offTo all the white folks I would like to say howdyAnd to all my brothers I say peace quit actin rowdyWack mcs in ninety-two, ew you need to take a restThe public dont you aim the best youre softer than a hookers chestRaps, I make em, snaps, I make emFor duties movin booties cause I shake shake shake emAnd I got rhymes, funky funky rhymesE-swift hold the needle down with nickels and dimesI drink olde english, st. ides and mickeysWhen its time to roll I throw on my black dickeysOn the mic I get wicked, like wilson pickettI get the place jumpin like a cricket when I kick shitIm from the west coast but dont sleep home-stimpyEven if I was a paperboy you still couldnt rip meI walk up and chalk up pairs like the knicksIm all in the mix like snares, and kicksWhen it comes to rhymes I get loose like belt bucklesThose who chose to oppose this nose is felt knuckles(where you goin to? ) to the tip(and what cha bout to do? ) bout to ripSome people use the word funky too looselyAnd just how many rappers say they kick it like bruce lee(whats your favorite brew? ) olde e(and what it make you do? ) go peeIt used to be about rhymes, all about rhymesNow rappers rearrangin, and changin like timesI got it bad yall, I got it bad yallWhen it comes to the pen and the pad yallI got it bad yall, I got it bad yallWhen it comes to the pen and the pad yallVerse two: e-swiftBack the ***** up, gimme room to breathNot too many niggaz can flip the rhymes like theseI freak the technique as if it was a *****Got more soul than the pit with a fifthPitch the ball, so I can beat it with the batTalk some shit, so I can smoke ya with my gatIm feelin kind feelin kinda feelin kinda feelin kindaFeelin kinda buzzed off a sack of chocolate tieMy my my ho, I like to rip the shows upSmack the hoes that walk around with they nose upRun to the liquor store, before they close upBuy a few 40s, cause daily I get to upSit at the crib and write riggy riggy rhymesLine after line after liggy liggy lineYo I can get funky, buy my tape and bump meTo the break of dawn I hit the bud and pass it onHangin at the park, shootin craps on the weekendMy brown bag is wet cause my tall can is leakinStarin at the cops, beatin up on rodneyWhile a pack of o.g.s steppin to me tryin to rob meJust because Im dope, niggaz wanna smoke meOn the mic I get funky while youre doin the hokey-pokeyDance steps, I think that you should leave to paulaAlkaholiks is the shit, e-swifts the smooth bawlerIs slangin these rhymes like a rockLife aint shit but money and a glockDont punch a clock, but I ***** a fat knotSo I can smoke a lot of pot that I roll up with topsAnd ya aint heard shit yet, Im just gettin warmLike hot butter on, say what? , the popcornIm headed to the top, please give me my propsMy beats are fat as ***** so bump my shit in your boxI love to hit the skinz, but then again who doesntI love to hit the herbs cause it leave me feelin buzzinI dedicate this chumpie to the poets who can wreckAnd 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 ripSome people use the word funky too looselyAnd just how many niggaz say they kick it like bruce lee(whats your favorite brew? ) olde e(and what it make you do? ) go peeIt used to be about rhymes, all about rhymesNow rappers rearrangin, and changin like timesI got it bad yall, I got it bad yallWhen it comes to the pen and the pad yallI got it bad yall, I got it bad yallWhen it comes to the pen and the pad yallVerse three: king teeUp jumps the man with the lootRockin like a troop with the alkaholik groupEverything is kosher, got a little tallerLivin kinda phat cause king tees a bawlerI just, irritate the wack, leave em so confusedWhen Im checkin on the mic with the ones and twosSneak you a peek of the drunk techniqueCant stand up, need to take a seatBaby baby baby its the alkaholiksBut I can freak the mic no matter how ya call itMetaphors grand, and Im the great manDrink a whole fifth yes I can yes I can canThe girls call me dick-em-downGot that title rockin for the crownCatch yall later, around next weekendIm a alkaholik and Im late for my meeting
