Tha Alkaholiks - All the Way Live [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Verse One: Tash

Caps get peeled rolling in my force field
Like a nine with hollow points I keep rap flows concealed
So when you walkin down the block you better watch who you approachin
I'm not your R&B singer, so ain't no need for vocal coachin
Just a forty and a roach and I'll evict you out the units
While y'all niggas couldn't move me if you worked for Starvin Students
Downin all beer types, from St. Ide's to Red Stripe (yipes!)
The man that's stuffin mics down motherfuckers windpipes
Has returrrrned, to burrrrn, it's time y'all niggas learrrrrn
I neaturalize y'all niggas like relaxer in a perm
With flows that go against the grain with a story so compellin
I should mind The People's Court, snatch the mic from Doug Llewellyn
And host my own show, after Bill Cosby comes Ricooooo!
Transmitting live to all my black people
Catch my drift, I'm down with my nigga E-Swift
My name is Tash, I'm from the group that you don't wanna fuck with
Never shy, sippin on some why ask why
Smokin thai with this bitch that's more fly than Jasmine Guy
Hooked up with John Q so let me do my thiiing
While niggas rock that played shit that they bought from Chess King
But still, I train rhymes to flip like a seal
Niggas say my rhyme skill on the steel is unreal
But all I do is chill and swing it when I bring it
Oh shit that's my nigga show these niggas how you sing it

Verse Two: Q-Tip

I bring it to your chest pa all the way live
We deliver ill verses guaranteed to cause hives
When we start rappin heads roll like Patton
What the fuck bloodclot the Alkaholiks rhyme a lot
Yo I'm like Grimace when I'm on this rap scrimmage
ANd I got this magic wand to make your puny soul diminish
The Abstract delivers, I be the Queens nigga on point
Mary Jane ain't nuttin but a joint
They called a nigga up to add a little bit of flavor
Now I'm cuttin and slashin like Luke's light saber
Yeah, what? You trapped in the zone
Where MC's get seared and all spots blown
And in this rap shit a nigga need to be thicky
I fuck with the crew who downs the deuce deuce Mickey's
I'm from the rotten apple, y'all niggas can't grapple
And love to the Liks, hit your ass like a tackle

[Pow, bust my liquid-ass style
Peace to Mad Lib and my nigga Wild Child]

Verse Three: J-Ro

Yo put in the disc E
While I hit the whiskey
[Bust a rhyme off the head J]
The nigga missed me
I'm in this rap game so I'mma aim to be best
It's fresh, but off the head it's like the dunk contest
I don't walk the street, I roll my Jeep in an instant
I rock the beat to sleep like an infant
The Likwit crew, comin like this on you
With that four minute Olde English piss on you
You're bustin dumb raps off the cap, oh shit
But I got the pen and pad locked down like a pit
I let the ink submerge into the thin wood sheets
Beats make my head bop, so I'mma rock it for the streets
I fill all my days with big butts and boom
I let my pants hand cause my big nuts need room
I'm not old school, or new school, I'm modern school, I'm ditchin
When my girl starts bitchin I gets hot like a kitchen
I fly down like the Chi-town wind
Cause I got the iller noise to make the hardcore grin
When, the saints come marchin in
I'mma roll right by em in the fly Lincoln
Roughneck niggas wanna box me down
Cause I got the ladies lookin like Foxy Brown
The Liks bring the beer Tip sticks it in your earholes
I drop the mic and strike the Heisman pose

Verse Four: King Tee

Hardcore G, I get hardcore man
From the underland a fuckin wonderman, bam
Lunatic potential, an isperential differential
Confidentially smashin instrumentals
On this tune I bring raps of doom to the mic
And put my rear shit in flight, peep
If the drunk funk don't wanna hump in your trunk
Man you got some motherfuckin junk