All The Way Live

Verse One: Tash

Caps get peeled rolling in my force field
Like a nine with hollow points I keep rap flows that's ill
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 admit you rock the units
While y'all couldn't move me if you worked for Starvin Students
Downin all beer types, from St. Ide's to Red Stripe (yipes!)
The menace stuffin mics down motherfkers windpipes
Has returrrrned, to burrrrn, it's time y'all learrrrrn
I neaturalize y'all like relaxer in a perm
with flows that go against the grain with a story so compellin
I should mind The People's Court, sn*tch 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 nigg* E-Swift
My name is Tash, I'm from the group that you don't wanna fk with
Never shy, sippin on some why ask why
Smokin thai with this b*tch that's more fly than Jasmin Guy
Hooked up with John Q so let me do my thiiing
while rock the play s**t that they bought from Chess King
But still, I train rhymes to flip like a seal
say my rhyme skill on the steel is unreal
But all I do is chill and swing it when I bring it
Oh s**t that's my nigg* show these how you figure

Verse Two: Q-Tip

I bring it to your chest pour all the way live
And deliver ill verse guaranteed to cause highs
When we start rappin heads roll like Patton
With the flood blood clot 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 nigg* on point
Mary Jane ain't nuttin but a joint
They called a nigg* 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 s**t a nigg* need to be thicky
I fk with the crew who downs the deuce deuce Mickey's
I'm from the rotten apple, y'all can't grapple
And love to the Liks, hit your as* like a tackle

Pow, bust my liquid-ass style
Peace to Mad Lib and my nigg* 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 nigg* missed me
I'm in this rap game so I'ma 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 pi*s on you
You're bustin dumb raps off the cap, oh s**t
But I got the pen and pad locked down like a pit
I let the, ink submerger, into the thin wood sheets
Beats make my head bop, so I'ma 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 moaning I gets got like a kitchen
I fly down like the Chi-town wind
Cause I got the iller noise to make the hardc*re grin
When, the saints come marchin in
I'ma roll right by em in the fly Lincoln
Roughneck 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

hardc*re G, I get hardc*re man
From the underland a fkin 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 s**t in flight, peep
If the drunk funk don't wanna hump in your trunk
Man you got some motherfkin junk