Got it bad y’all lyrics

Artist  : King tee 
Song : Got it bad y’all
 
Intro:

Ladies and gentleman, that nigga king tee and the
al-cum-a-holiks

Verse one: j-ro

Pooh-butts play the rear cause I’m makin yapes
The rhymes ain’t no thicker than a, skittle
grapes
A lot of girls would like to thank me, for the
hanky-panky
On the mic I hold a belt, now I know no one could
spank me
It took a long time for the people, to hear my
rhymes
Seems like I been rappin since my birth in ’69
Sorry to keep you waitin, I run rhymes like
walter payton
I get a rhyme like spokes on a dayton
But I won’t knock off, because I just rock off
The beats to get funky, like when you take your
sock off
To all the white folks I would like to say howdy
And to all my brothers I say peace quit actin
rowdy
Wack mcs in ninety-two, ew you need to take a
rest
The public don’t you aim the best you’re softer
than a hookers chest
Raps, I make em, snaps, I make em
For duties movin booties cause I shake shake
shake em
And I got rhymes, funky funky rhymes
E-swift hold the needle down with nickels and
dimes
I drink olde english, st. ide’s and mickeys
When it’s time to roll I throw on my black
dickeys
On the mic I get wicked, like wilson pickett
I get the place jumpin like a cricket when I kick
shit
I’m from the west coast but don’t sleep
home-stimpy
Even if I was a paperboy you still couldn’t rip
me
I walk up and chalk up pairs like the knicks
I’m all in the mix like snares, and kicks
When it comes to rhymes I get loose like belt
buckles
Those who chose to oppose this nose is felt
knuckles

(where you goin’ to? )	   to the tip
(and what cha bout to do? )  bout to rip
Some people use the word funky too loosely
And just how many rappers say they kick it like
bruce lee
(what’s your favorite brew? ) olde e
(and what it make you do? )	 go pee
It used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes
Now rappers rearrangin, and changin like times
I got it bad y’all, I got it bad y’all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y’all
I got it bad y’all, I got it bad y’all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y’all

Verse two: e-swift

Back the fuck up, gimme room to breath
Not too many niggaz can flip the rhymes like
these
I freak the technique as if it was a bitch
Got more soul than the pit with a fifth
Pitch the ball, so I can beat it with the bat
Talk some shit, so I can smoke ya with my gat
I’m feelin kind feelin kinda feelin kinda feelin
kinda
Feelin kinda buzzed off a sack of chocolate tie
My my my ho, I like to rip the shows up
Smack the hoes that walk around with they nose
up
Run to the liquor store, before they close up
Buy a few 40s, cause daily I get to’ up
Sit at the crib and write riggy riggy rhymes
Line after line after liggy liggy line
Yo I can get funky, buy my tape and bump me
To the break of dawn I hit the bud and pass it
on
Hangin at the park, shootin craps on the weekend
My brown bag is wet cause my tall can is leakin
Starin at the cops, beatin up on rodney
While a pack of o.g.’s steppin to me tryin to rob
me
Just because I’m dope, niggaz wanna smoke me
On the mic I get funky while you’re doin the
hokey-pokey
Dance steps, I think that you should leave to
paula
Alkaholiks is the shit, e-swift’s the smooth
bawler
Is slangin these rhymes like a rock
Life ain’t shit but money and a glock
Don’t punch a clock, but I cock a fat knot
So I can smoke a lot of pot that I roll up with
tops
And ya ain’t heard shit yet, I’m just gettin
warm
Like hot butter on, say what? , the popcorn
I’m headed to the top, please give me my props
My beats are fat as fuck so bump my shit in your
box
I love to hit the skinz, but then again who
doesn’t
I love to hit the herbs cause it leave me feelin
buzzin
I dedicate this chumpie to the poets who can
wreck
And 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 rip
Some people use the word funky too loosely
And just how many niggaz say they kick it like
bruce lee
(what’s your favorite brew? ) olde e
(and what it make you do? )  go pee
It used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes
Now rappers rearrangin, and changin like times
I got it bad y’all, I got it bad y’all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y’all
I got it bad y’all, I got it bad y’all
When it comes to the pen and the pad y’all

Verse three: king tee

Up jumps the man with the loot
Rockin like a troop with the alkaholik group
Everything is kosher, got a little taller
Livin kinda phat cause king tee’s a bawler
I just, irritate the wack, leave em so confused
When I’m checkin on the mic with the ones and
twos
Sneak you a peek of the drunk technique
Can’t stand up, need to take a seat
Baby baby baby it’s the alkaholiks
But I can freak the mic no matter how ya call it
Metaphors grand, and I’m the great man
Drink a whole fifth yes I can yes I can can
The girls call me dick-em-down
Got that title rockin for the crown
Catch y’all later, around next weekend
I’m a alkaholik and I’m late for my meeting