Lyrics
I’ve been knowin' you for a long time, boy
I heard you have been doin' some of that rap stuff
Y’all always, you, you and Tha Alkaholiks is always comin' up in my place
And drinkin' up my shit, and you know, always there
I’ll get. I'll get. I'll get your back, Sweet dick
You know, and get me back other times
So wouldn’t you do a song for me?
You know, yeah
Awww, that’s it, on the funk
Uhh, well alright
Uhh, for the … the squares out there
That don’t know what time with the funk
Well, al' wrong, ugh
We’re, welcome to the radio station funk
We’re we are known uhh, to be uhh, people bee’s wax and Uhh.
Get down with their funky souls and take over their life cuz
You know we gotta do that shit West Coast, California
Well, al’wrong, hahaha
Uhh, we got some special players out tonight on this list uhh
They call them uhh. what’s your name nigga?
West Coast
Bet y’all bark
Bet y’all bark and no bite
I’m just a poor black nigga tryin' to do this
Wake up, wake up and smell the mothafuckin' homeless
No pain no gain, you can call it dope but my name is Kokane
Yo Alkaholiks, pass me the bombay
Cause I got more Hook-ups on Yay' than a Ese
I got a 13 flat well, alright
Cause I gotta slang my funk at 17−5 a ki
Now, what’s up homes
I be rollin' in a bucket full of birds and a mobile phone
Now, you hoes might laugh
But you won’t laugh when I’m rollin' up in a 500 rag
Cause niggas be havin' fly shit from the crack
And you wonder why your motherfuckin' ass got jacked, boy
You shouldn’t talk shit from the start
Cause you got no bite but all bark, boy, yeah
It’s the westcoast soul, representin'
Funky like George Clinton
I’m in the house like a kitchen
Niggas talkin' shit all bark but no bite
Say good night
I challenge weak MCs to a fight
Bad MCs
I spank your head with the ruler from the old schooler
Bust yo' ass like Don Shula
Hardcore, never rock no soft shit
I flow like water from a faucet
Aww shit, here comes the raw shit
Back the fuck up, I fit the track, I sack a funk a dunk up
Rough and rugged like a truck
All bark but all you’re bitin' is my style
I hit the 40 ounce and then I’ll get buckwild
Check, E-Swift is the title
Yeah, I usually rock scratches with the vinyl
Peace from the Alkaholik wino
And I know, I know, I know, I know what you’re thinkin'
This groove is so funky that is stinkin'
My Dress code is simple, Jeans and shit
I can’t get in the club cause my description don’t fit
Those with clothes, that ya' see at fashion shows
So I sneak in the rear, hop on stage and bust flows
I’m J-Ro the Human highlight
Like rock the party 'til the twilight
Grab the girl, take her home
Hit the rump and bump the shy lights so
Have no fear, I’m your Number one peer
And you can’t come near, cause who must play the rear?
I see too many niggas get a brain blow out
So now, I’m headed upstream like a rainbow Trout
I refuse to catch the blues in the ghetto
Now, I get paid, to bring kids to life like Gepetto
It’s The Liks, baby, and we ain’t goin' get whack
So when we buy the bud, hook us up with the thick sack
So you can bark if you want to
But I’m comin' in the club with my whole motherfuckin' crew
I’m the man, you know I can’t bust a dandy Rap
So I’m fuckin' in the front like a handicap
E-Swift, 187, Kokane and Ro
With a finger in the air for Daryl Gates before we go
Yeah, that motherfuckin' song is over
But y’all can take your drunk ass
No rappin' little mothafucking ass’s home
Aww no, no, no, you, you ain’t got to go home
But you got to get the hell out here
No, no, no, don’t be touchin' that over there boy
No, just get, just get your ass up outta here
No, no, no, yea I bet ya’ll mama I bet, I bet, I bet ya mama all bark no bite
Ya' ol' cat fish eatin, aww, uhh
One leg havin' old
Stupid old motherfucker
Get ya', just get your ass hole out back here boy
I don’t have enough time for that old shit, boy
(*Music fades as people evacuating off the Night Club*)