| Yeah, Alkaholiks |
| Get it right |
| Alkaholiks! |
| You gotta get up to get down |
| Cars, I drive so laid back |
| In my glass house bumpin «Big Payback» |
| James, that’s my name don’t wear it out |
| All these ladies wanna know my whereabouts |
| Women, I love e’rything about 'em |
| You cain’t live with 'em, cain’t live without 'em |
| Dogs, I like 'em big mean and vicious |
| When I tell 'em get you, you gon' need some stitches |
| Hip-Hop, I been doin it for years |
| Spent a lot of time drinkin too many beers |
| Clubs, man I’m always on the guest list |
| And I don’t even have to dress up my best-est |
| Shoes, man I have so many pairs |
| From Timbos to kroker sacs and Nike Airs |
| Guns, I really don’t carry |
| But I gotta lotta homies that would love to see you buried |
| Aiyyo my style ain’t never switch I serve hook to hook |
| I’m still an Alkie in my ways, I never shook the look |
| You can see it in my face, I’m here to cook the rooks |
| Promoters lookin at me funny like they booked a crook |
| Sheeeit, I’m over here with Clipper chippers |
| With a gang of strippers downin these liquid mixtures |
| If my money make you sick, then I hope you feel better |
| I’mma grab me a bitch and slap some tailfeathers |
| Y’all niggas can’t even spell clever |
| While I take my time and write from the heart like jail letters |
| The ice might fool you from the wrist to the necklace |
| But if you out there talkin shit you on a reckless nigga’s checklist |
| This the West, where Deebo lives |
| Where chicks run around claimin these is Rico’s kids |
| Uh-uh, cause everybody wants somethin from me |
| The niggas want my style and the bitches want my money |
| I’m a wax carnivore |
| Eat beats like meat, hope you like it raw |
| Fuck it, I’m the next Curtis Shaw |
| Mixed with Marley Marl y’all heard thus far |
| Spar with the track, so my wind’s up to par |
| Know a few Alkies, got friends at the bar |
| Get the club jumpin like the pumps on my car |
| Front and back like the strippers that star |
| Daaaaamn, or like six-deuces on the 'Shaw |
| Might tap your jaw like if we brawl |
| And I ain’t even battlin y’all |
| I ride the tracks that the others just straddle and fall |
| Platinum plaques, I got stacks this tall |
| Looks like I got Baby’s teeth on my wall |
| I’m +Hot Boy+, my whole click sick like SARS |
| We roll through and plug chicks like a pause |