Make Room - Tash

I knock 'em knock 'em out the park when other rappers are hitting bunts

I’m a togger not a fogger step on runts and don’t do stunts

I got SOUL POWER never took a cold shower

Now I got twenty hos the color of cooking flour

You can call me sleazy cuz my rhymes are kinda greasy

I used to have a curl now eveybody wanna tease me Like a Kung-Fu flick, I stick you in the dick, with my toothpick

Tell 'em Homicide (DJ Homicide: You hit them like a brick)

I like clothes and hoes but like 'em better in the sheets

I rock more beats than Jesse Owens ran track meets

Amazing feets move, they happen everyday

When the Ro to the J bring his ass out to play

I weight one-ninety but I’m, fat

I ki-uh-kick up dust when I bust like a cap

Tha lik-lik?

crew, and Sugar Ray too

Is rock a show, knock a hoe, and crack another brew

Make Room

It’s not cause I’m seein’double

It’s not cause we’re causin’trouble

It’s not cause you’re in a bubble

Now, can you just (Kiks: Make Room!)

It’s not cause I’m seein’double

It’s not cause we’re causin’trouble

It’s not cause you’re in a bubble

Now

It’s the super, producer gets it poppin with the quickness

Homicide and the Alkies straight gettin down to business

It’s all about the Liks cause they heavy on the kicks

But they easy on the treble (adjust my scratch level)

So fools can here my beats bangin’all the way in China

The skills you can’t front on, Tha Homicidal rhymer

Could rip a show up to’up (???) til the crips and bloods show up and rock these turntables til the motherfuckers blow up But that’s cause I’m slick tossin records like a discus

Y’all niggaz feel these beats from fuckin’Halloween to Christmas

That’s why I’m screamin on all y’all niggaz like the Sonics

I’m hooked on gin and chronic like your momma’s Hooked on Phonics

So when we steppin through, with the thirty-two of brew

You better make way for the Alkaholik crew

When we steppin through, with the thirty-two of brew

You better make way for Sugar Ray, fool!

Make Room!

J-Mcenroe, I’m smackin’foes

You seen that movie Heat?

My crew was packin’those

You lackin’flows, you come off wack in shows

You (pickin'chickens???) man we got models and actin hoes

Guess who’s back down at the brew shack

Gotta cool sack of that shit to blow your dude back

Who wack?

I’ll beat you till ya blue, black

And make you do crack in the back of a new 'lac

What’s my name?

(J-Ro)

You tell them how to spell it (J-R-O)

Now you know niggy

Rest in peace (unintelligible syllable) Tupac, Eazy

Pun, and Biggie

It’s time to get drinky (?)

Break out’cha bong while I sing my song

Hope it’s bomb cause I’m gonna sing it all night long

When we steppin through, with the thirty-two of brew

You better make way for the Alkaholik crew

Make room!

w/ J-Ro, over make rooms and now

It’s the Liks baby, Sugar Ray baby

It’s the Liks baby, Sugar Ray baby

Bein’drunk!

Rhymin’the Rhyme (echoed four times, beat changes)

Night vision, with precision, we slay with no delay

It’s the Liks and Sugar Ray so feel free to fly away

'Cause the A in Alkaholiks stands for Always been the shit (Word)

You can catch me in the wobble slam-dancin'in the pit

Look (the way?) my homies get when we out that alcohol

we do it all, start a brawl, tell the cops (fuck y’all)

Carl Lewis feet ain’t as swift as my pen

that’s why y’all niggaz keep knockin’but you can’t come in Look at where the fuck we been, around the world in a day

That’s why the fools can’t fuck with the Liks and Sugar Ray