Got It Bad Y'All Lyrics
| Song | Got It Bad Y'All |
| Artist | King Tee |
| Album | Tha Triflin' Album |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 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 |
| Intro: | |
| Ladies and gentleman, that nigga king tee and the alcumaholiks | |
| Verse one: jro | |
| Poohbutts 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 hankypanky | |
| 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 ninetytwo, 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 | |
| Eswift 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 homestimpy | |
| 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: eswift | |
| 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 hokeypokey | |
| Dance steps, i think that you should leave to paula | |
| Alkaholiks is the shit, eswift' 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 dickemdown | |
| 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 |
| Intro: | |
| Ladies and gentleman, that nigga king tee and the alcumaholiks | |
| Verse one: jro | |
| Poohbutts 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 hankypanky | |
| 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 ninetytwo, 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 | |
| Eswift 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 homestimpy | |
| 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: eswift | |
| 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 hokeypokey | |
| Dance steps, i think that you should leave to paula | |
| Alkaholiks is the shit, eswift' 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 dickemdown | |
| 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 |
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