[{"id":7070918,"name":"Let It Out","trackName":"Let It Out","artistName":"Tha Alkaholiks","albumName":"Coast II Coast","duration":281.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"That's the alkaholiks functions, conjunction junction\nThe remix version for all the brothers out there\nThat got shit on they chest and just wanna let it out\nAnything you could do I could do fresher\nWhen I'm on the microphone I rock the shit without no pressure\nCause I snuck my forty ouncer past the bouncer with the stun gun\nI gots to get some lyrics off my chest so let me run one\nCause who's bad? not Michael Jackson when I asked him\nI even rock the mic for seven days with Toni Braxton\nIt's the, liks, rockin' like a six point six\nSo while I be scoopin' bitches you rush the porno flicks\nFor reals, I gots more skills than an occupation center\nI got your hoe cookin' my dinner\nAction, lights and cameras ain't needed\nIndeed it's, the nigga that be gettin' rappers heated\nI'm j-ro, and my style is darker than a mole\nMy rhyme is so hot you got to stop drop and roll\nAll the liks releases, become masterpieces\nOh jeezus, my style is sick like pork greases\n[Chorus]\nAnd I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\nThey'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\nThey'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\nThey'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta, I gotta let it all out\nI get in 'em when I sin 'em, the alkaholik venom\nI fold your clothes with your body still in 'em\nThe rhymes I got, hit like Ronnie Lott\nThe only way you take my spot is with a shot\nI grab rappers by the hand and make sure they understand\nThat they can't scrape j-ro the man\nA nigga who stays, in the old school ways\nAnd just like subways, I can make your days\nWe got more soul than james brown and platform adidas\nThe likwit crew, comin' new like a fetus\nSo run tell your granny, your pops and your girl\nniggas like me gonna rule the world\nSo all aboard the j-ro train to funkytown\nExpress from the west so it's best that I clown\nI bust the alehze on ice on down to beck's brew\nI got more fame than dana dane I hold mics like Donahue\nCause I'm committed, admit it, you was too legit to quit it\nDancin' with toilets now you can't get busy with it\nWith the vintage olde gold gettin' dusty in the cellar\nI throw my shit deeper than Jeff Hostettler\nSo yo what you got, 'cause God damn it's hot\nIt's the alkaholik rhymer up in your night spot\nSo ease up off my line, and let me rhyme\nI lose you like the jewelry that that bitch can't find\nCall me e.t., but yo, it don't take a secret psychic\nCause even in the future i'ma frak it when I mic it\n[Chorus]\nWith flows rough enough to cut ya, beats enough to touch ya\nKnown to rock the cooles with the liquid rhyme structures\nIt's the man with vocal tones that hurt words to broken bones\nI got flows throughout my body deep rooted like kidney stones\nSo tap into the cold while I torch mc's\nCause I be itchin for a scratch like the force md's\nBut yo fuck that, tash is in the wind with the gin\nI gotta pass the mic to j 'cause he can't hold it in\nI can't hold it in my friend the liks get the most clout\nWe be scorin points like michael irvin on the post route\nAnd just like joi boy, I make your bones ache man\nJust how much punishment can a rapper take man?\nThe homes be like where you been? man I been creatin\nWe had you salivation like the dogs that be waitin\nFor the kibbles 'n' bits, I love pits tits and rap hits\nAnd Bruce Lee flicks, and clockin yapes with the liks\nI can't hold it in I gotta speak my mind\nThere's a lotta half-ass niggas thinkin' they can rhyme\nBut their style is not buttah, it's more like busta without the a\nYou never think of nothin' fresh to say\nThe freshest dj from the state of ohio\nI remember when you battled, cuttin up survival\nNots toe fucked with, used to brag and boast\nPacked up my technics, now I'm on the west coast, now I\nDamn, we gotta get that shit off our chest nigga\nYo before we get up out\nI wanna shout it out to my nigga diamond d","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Let It Out\n  artist: Tha Alkaholiks\n  album: Coast II Coast\n  duration_ms: 281000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  That's the alkaholiks functions, conjunction junction\n  The remix version for all the brothers out there\n  That got shit on they chest and just wanna let it out\n  Anything you could do I could do fresher\n  When I'm on the microphone I rock the shit without no pressure\n  Cause I snuck my forty ouncer past the bouncer with the stun gun\n  I gots to get some lyrics off my chest so let me run one\n  Cause who's bad? not Michael Jackson when I asked him\n  I even rock the mic for seven days with Toni Braxton\n  It's the, liks, rockin' like a six point six\n  So while I be scoopin' bitches you rush the porno flicks\n  For reals, I gots more skills than an occupation center\n  I got your hoe cookin' my dinner\n  Action, lights and cameras ain't needed\n  Indeed it's, the nigga that be gettin' rappers heated\n  I'm j-ro, and my style is darker than a mole\n  My rhyme is so hot you got to stop drop and roll\n  All the liks releases, become masterpieces\n  Oh jeezus, my style is sick like pork greases\n  [Chorus]\n  And I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\n  They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\n  They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\n  They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta, I gotta let it all out\n  I get in 'em when I sin 'em, the alkaholik venom\n  I fold your clothes with your body still in 'em\n  The rhymes I got, hit like Ronnie Lott\n  The only way you take my spot is with a shot\n  I grab rappers by the hand and make sure they understand\n  That they can't scrape j-ro the man\n  A nigga who stays, in the old school ways\n  And just like subways, I can make your days\n  We got more soul than james brown and platform adidas\n  The likwit crew, comin' new like a fetus\n  So run tell your granny, your pops and your girl\n  niggas like me gonna rule the world\n  So all aboard the j-ro train to funkytown\n  Express from the west so it's best that I clown\n  I bust the alehze on ice on down to beck's brew\n  I got more fame than dana dane I hold mics like Donahue\n  Cause I'm committed, admit it, you was too legit to quit it\n  Dancin' with toilets now you can't get busy with it\n  With the vintage olde gold gettin' dusty in the cellar\n  I throw my shit deeper than Jeff Hostettler\n  So yo what you got, 'cause God damn it's hot\n  It's the alkaholik rhymer up in your night spot\n  So ease up off my line, and let me rhyme\n  I lose you like the jewelry that that bitch can't find\n  Call me e.t., but yo, it don't take a secret psychic\n  Cause even in the future i'ma frak it when I mic it\n  [Chorus]\n  With flows rough enough to cut ya, beats enough to touch ya\n  Known to rock the cooles with the liquid rhyme structures\n  It's the man with vocal tones that hurt words to broken bones\n  I got flows throughout my body deep rooted like kidney stones\n  So tap into the cold while I torch mc's\n  Cause I be itchin for a scratch like the force md's\n  But yo fuck that, tash is in the wind with the gin\n  I gotta pass the mic to j 'cause he can't hold it in\n  I can't hold it in my friend the liks get the most clout\n  We be scorin points like michael irvin on the post route\n  And just like joi boy, I make your bones ache man\n  Just how much punishment can a rapper take man?\n  The homes be like where you been? man I been creatin\n  We had you salivation like the dogs that be waitin\n  For the kibbles 'n' bits, I love pits tits and rap hits\n  And Bruce Lee flicks, and clockin yapes with the liks\n  I can't hold it in I gotta speak my mind\n  There's a lotta half-ass niggas thinkin' they can rhyme\n  But their style is not buttah, it's more like busta without the a\n  You never think of nothin' fresh to say\n  The freshest dj from the state of ohio\n  I remember when you battled, cuttin up survival\n  Nots toe fucked with, used to brag and boast\n  Packed up my technics, now I'm on the west coast, now I\n  Damn, we gotta get that shit off our chest nigga\n  Yo before we get up out\n  I wanna shout it out to my nigga diamond d\n"},{"id":19068618,"name":"Let It Out","trackName":"Let It Out","artistName":"Tha Alkaholiks","albumName":"Coast II Coast","duration":283.2,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"That's the Alkaholiks functions, conjunction junction\nThe remix version for all the brothers out there\nThat got shit on they chest and just wanna let it out\n\n(Tash)\n\nANything you could do I could do fresher\nWHen I'm on the microphone I rock the shit without no pressure\nCause I snuck my forty ouncer past the bouncer with the stun gun\nI gots to get some lyrics off my chest so let me run one\nCause who's bad? Not Michael Jackson when I asked him\nI even rock the mic for seven days with Toni Braxtion\nIt's the, Liks, rockin like a six point six\nSo while I be scoopin bitches you rush the porno flicks\n\n(J-Ro)\n\nFor reals, I gots more skills than an occupation center\nI got your hoe cookin my dinner\nAction, lights and cameras ain't needed\nIndeed it's, the nigga that be gettin rappers heated\nI'm J-Ro, and my style is darker than a mole\nMy rhyme is so hot you got to stop drop and roll\nAll the Liks releases, become masterpieces\nOh jeezus, my style is sick like pork greases\n\nAnd I can't holt it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\nThey'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\n\nThey'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\nThey'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta, I gotta let it all out\n\n(J-Ro)\n\nI get in em when I sin em, the Alkaholik venom\nI fold your clothes with your body still in em\nThe rhymes I got, hit like Ronnie Lott\nThe only way you take my spot is with a shot\nI grab rappers by the hand and make sure they understand\nThat they can't scrape J-Ro the man\nA nigga who stays, in the old school ways\nAnd just like Subways, I can make your days\nWe got more soul than James Brown and platform Adidas\nThe Likwit crew, comin new like a fetus\nSo run tell your granny, your pops and your girl\nNiggaz like me gonna rule the world\nSo all aboard the J-Ro train to FunkyTown\nExpress from the West so it's best that I clown\n\n(Tash)\n\nI bust the Alehze on ice on down to Beck's brew\nI got more fame than Dana Dane I hold mics like Donahue\nCause I'm committed, admit it, you was Too Legit to QUit it\nDancin with toilets now you can't get busy with it\nWIth the vintage Olde GOld gettin dusty in the cellar\nI throw my shit deeper than Jeff Hostettler\nSo yo what you got, cause god DAMN it's hot\nIt's the Alkaholik rhymer up in your night spot\nSo ease up off my line, and let me rhyme\nI lose you like the jewelry that that bitch can't find\nCall me E.T., but yo, it don't take a secret psychic\nCause even in the future I'ma frak it when I mic it\n\n(Tash)\n\nWith flows rough enough to cut ya, beats enough to touch ya\nKnown to rock the cooles with the liquid rhyme structures\nIt's the man with vocal tones that hurt words to broken bones\nI got flows throughout my body deep rooted like kidney stones\nSo tap into the cold while I torch MC's\nCause I be itchin for a scratch like the Force MD's\nBut yo fuck that, Tash is in the wind with the gin\nI gotta pass the mic to J cause he can't hold it in\n\n(J-Ro)\n\nI can't hold it in my friend the Liks get the most clout\nWe be scorin points like Michael Irvin on the post route\nAnd just like Joi boy, I make your bones ache man\nJust how much punishment can a rapper take man?\nThe homes be like \"Where you been?\" man I been creatin\nWe had you salivation like the dogs that be waitin\nFor the Kibbles n Bits, I love pits tits and rap hits\nAnd Bruce Lee flicks, and clockin yapes with the Liks\n\n(E-Swift)\n\nI can't hold it in I gotta speak my mind\nTHere's a lotta half-ass niggaz thinkin they can rhyme\nBut their style is not buttah, it's mor elike Busta without the A\nYOu never think of nuttin fresh to say\nThe freshest DJ from the state of Ohio\nI remember when you battled, cuttin up Survival\nNots toe fucked with, used to brag and boast\nPacked up my Technics, now I'm on the West coast, now I\n\n(Tash)\n\nDamn, we gotta get that shit off our chest nigga\nYo before we get up out\nI wanna shout it out to my nigga Diamond D","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Let It Out\n  artist: Tha Alkaholiks\n  album: Coast II Coast\n  duration_ms: 283200\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  That's the Alkaholiks functions, conjunction junction\n  The remix version for all the brothers out there\n  That got shit on they chest and just wanna let it out\n\n  (Tash)\n\n  ANything you could do I could do fresher\n  WHen I'm on the microphone I rock the shit without no pressure\n  Cause I snuck my forty ouncer past the bouncer with the stun gun\n  I gots to get some lyrics off my chest so let me run one\n  Cause who's bad? Not Michael Jackson when I asked him\n  I even rock the mic for seven days with Toni Braxtion\n  It's the, Liks, rockin like a six point six\n  So while I be scoopin bitches you rush the porno flicks\n\n  (J-Ro)\n\n  For reals, I gots more skills than an occupation center\n  I got your hoe cookin my dinner\n  Action, lights and cameras ain't needed\n  Indeed it's, the nigga that be gettin rappers heated\n  I'm J-Ro, and my style is darker than a mole\n  My rhyme is so hot you got to stop drop and roll\n  All the Liks releases, become masterpieces\n  Oh jeezus, my style is sick like pork greases\n\n  And I can't holt it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\n  They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\n\n  They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\n  They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta, I gotta let it all out\n\n  (J-Ro)\n\n  I get in em when I sin em, the Alkaholik venom\n  I fold your clothes with your body still in em\n  The rhymes I got, hit like Ronnie Lott\n  The only way you take my spot is with a shot\n  I grab rappers by the hand and make sure they understand\n  That they can't scrape J-Ro the man\n  A nigga who stays, in the old school ways\n  And just like Subways, I can make your days\n  We got more soul than James Brown and platform Adidas\n  The Likwit crew, comin new like a fetus\n  So run tell your granny, your pops and your girl\n  Niggaz like me gonna rule the world\n  So all aboard the J-Ro train to FunkyTown\n  Express from the West so it's best that I clown\n\n  (Tash)\n\n  I bust the Alehze on ice on down to Beck's brew\n  I got more fame than Dana Dane I hold mics like Donahue\n  Cause I'm committed, admit it, you was Too Legit to QUit it\n  Dancin with toilets now you can't get busy with it\n  WIth the vintage Olde GOld gettin dusty in the cellar\n  I throw my shit deeper than Jeff Hostettler\n  So yo what you got, cause god DAMN it's hot\n  It's the Alkaholik rhymer up in your night spot\n  So ease up off my line, and let me rhyme\n  I lose you like the jewelry that that bitch can't find\n  Call me E.T., but yo, it don't take a secret psychic\n  Cause even in the future I'ma frak it when I mic it\n\n  (Tash)\n\n  With flows rough enough to cut ya, beats enough to touch ya\n  Known to rock the cooles with the liquid rhyme structures\n  It's the man with vocal tones that hurt words to broken bones\n  I got flows throughout my body deep rooted like kidney stones\n  So tap into the cold while I torch MC's\n  Cause I be itchin for a scratch like the Force MD's\n  But yo fuck that, Tash is in the wind with the gin\n  I gotta pass the mic to J cause he can't hold it in\n\n  (J-Ro)\n\n  I can't hold it in my friend the Liks get the most clout\n  We be scorin points like Michael Irvin on the post route\n  And just like Joi boy, I make your bones ache man\n  Just how much punishment can a rapper take man?\n  The homes be like \"Where you been?\" man I been creatin\n  We had you salivation like the dogs that be waitin\n  For the Kibbles n Bits, I love pits tits and rap hits\n  And Bruce Lee flicks, and clockin yapes with the Liks\n\n  (E-Swift)\n\n  I can't hold it in I gotta speak my mind\n  THere's a lotta half-ass niggaz thinkin they can rhyme\n  But their style is not buttah, it's mor elike Busta without the A\n  YOu never think of nuttin fresh to say\n  The freshest DJ from the state of Ohio\n  I remember when you battled, cuttin up Survival\n  Nots toe fucked with, used to brag and boast\n  Packed up my Technics, now I'm on the West coast, now I\n\n  (Tash)\n\n  Damn, we gotta get that shit off our chest nigga\n  Yo before we get up out\n  I wanna shout it out to my nigga Diamond D\n"},{"id":39259943,"name":"Let It Out","trackName":"Let It Out","artistName":"Tha Alkaholiks","albumName":"Bob Spotify - 2,799 Hip Hop Songs","duration":281.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"That's the alkaholiks functions, conjunction junction\nThe remix version for all the brothers out there\nThat got shit on they chest and just wanna let it out\nAnything you could do I could do fresher\nWhen I'm on the microphone I rock the shit without no pressure\nCause I snuck my forty ouncer past the bouncer with the stun gun\nI gots to get some lyrics off my chest so let me run one\nCause who's bad? not Michael Jackson when I asked him\nI even rock the mic for seven days with Toni Braxton\nIt's the, liks, rockin' like a six point six\nSo while I be scoopin' bitches you rush the porno flicks\nFor reals, I gots more skills than an occupation center\nI got your hoe cookin' my dinner\nAction, lights and cameras ain't needed\nIndeed it's, the nigga that be gettin' rappers heated\nI'm j-ro, and my style is darker than a mole\nMy rhyme is so hot you got to stop drop and roll\nAll the liks releases, become masterpieces\nOh jeezus, my style is sick like pork greases\n[Chorus]\nAnd I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\nThey'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\nThey'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\nThey'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\nI gotta, I gotta let it all out\nI get in 'em when I sin 'em, the alkaholik venom\nI fold your clothes with your body still in 'em\nThe rhymes I got, hit like Ronnie Lott\nThe only way you take my spot is with a shot\nI grab rappers by the hand and make sure they understand\nThat they can't scrape j-ro the man\nA nigga who stays, in the old school ways\nAnd just like subways, I can make your days\nWe got more soul than james brown and platform adidas\nThe likwit crew, comin' new like a fetus\nSo run tell your granny, your pops and your girl\nniggas like me gonna rule the world\nSo all aboard the j-ro train to funkytown\nExpress from the west so it's best that I clown\nI bust the alehze on ice on down to beck's brew\nI got more fame than dana dane I hold mics like Donahue\nCause I'm committed, admit it, you was too legit to quit it\nDancin' with toilets now you can't get busy with it\nWith the vintage olde gold gettin' dusty in the cellar\nI throw my shit deeper than Jeff Hostettler\nSo yo what you got, 'cause God damn it's hot\nIt's the alkaholik rhymer up in your night spot\nSo ease up off my line, and let me rhyme\nI lose you like the jewelry that that bitch can't find\nCall me e.t., but yo, it don't take a secret psychic\nCause even in the future i'ma frak it when I mic it\n[Chorus]\nWith flows rough enough to cut ya, beats enough to touch ya\nKnown to rock the cooles with the liquid rhyme structures\nIt's the man with vocal tones that hurt words to broken bones\nI got flows throughout my body deep rooted like kidney stones\nSo tap into the cold while I torch mc's\nCause I be itchin for a scratch like the force md's\nBut yo fuck that, tash is in the wind with the gin\nI gotta pass the mic to j 'cause he can't hold it in\nI can't hold it in my friend the liks get the most clout\nWe be scorin points like michael irvin on the post route\nAnd just like joi boy, I make your bones ache man\nJust how much punishment can a rapper take man?\nThe homes be like where you been? man I been creatin\nWe had you salivation like the dogs that be waitin\nFor the kibbles 'n' bits, I love pits tits and rap hits\nAnd Bruce Lee flicks, and clockin yapes with the liks\nI can't hold it in I gotta speak my mind\nThere's a lotta half-ass niggas thinkin' they can rhyme\nBut their style is not buttah, it's more like busta without the a\nYou never think of nothin' fresh to say\nThe freshest dj from the state of ohio\nI remember when you battled, cuttin up survival\nNots toe fucked with, used to brag and boast\nPacked up my technics, now I'm on the west coast, now I\nDamn, we gotta get that shit off our chest nigga\nYo before we get up out\nI wanna shout it out to my nigga diamond d","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Let It Out\n  artist: Tha Alkaholiks\n  album: Bob Spotify - 2,799 Hip Hop Songs\n  duration_ms: 281133\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  That's the alkaholiks functions, conjunction junction\n  The remix version for all the brothers out there\n  That got shit on they chest and just wanna let it out\n  Anything you could do I could do fresher\n  When I'm on the microphone I rock the shit without no pressure\n  Cause I snuck my forty ouncer past the bouncer with the stun gun\n  I gots to get some lyrics off my chest so let me run one\n  Cause who's bad? not Michael Jackson when I asked him\n  I even rock the mic for seven days with Toni Braxton\n  It's the, liks, rockin' like a six point six\n  So while I be scoopin' bitches you rush the porno flicks\n  For reals, I gots more skills than an occupation center\n  I got your hoe cookin' my dinner\n  Action, lights and cameras ain't needed\n  Indeed it's, the nigga that be gettin' rappers heated\n  I'm j-ro, and my style is darker than a mole\n  My rhyme is so hot you got to stop drop and roll\n  All the liks releases, become masterpieces\n  Oh jeezus, my style is sick like pork greases\n  [Chorus]\n  And I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\n  They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\n  They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out)\n  They'll say I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in)\n  I gotta, I gotta let it all out\n  I get in 'em when I sin 'em, the alkaholik venom\n  I fold your clothes with your body still in 'em\n  The rhymes I got, hit like Ronnie Lott\n  The only way you take my spot is with a shot\n  I grab rappers by the hand and make sure they understand\n  That they can't scrape j-ro the man\n  A nigga who stays, in the old school ways\n  And just like subways, I can make your days\n  We got more soul than james brown and platform adidas\n  The likwit crew, comin' new like a fetus\n  So run tell your granny, your pops and your girl\n  niggas like me gonna rule the world\n  So all aboard the j-ro train to funkytown\n  Express from the west so it's best that I clown\n  I bust the alehze on ice on down to beck's brew\n  I got more fame than dana dane I hold mics like Donahue\n  Cause I'm committed, admit it, you was too legit to quit it\n  Dancin' with toilets now you can't get busy with it\n  With the vintage olde gold gettin' dusty in the cellar\n  I throw my shit deeper than Jeff Hostettler\n  So yo what you got, 'cause God damn it's hot\n  It's the alkaholik rhymer up in your night spot\n  So ease up off my line, and let me rhyme\n  I lose you like the jewelry that that bitch can't find\n  Call me e.t., but yo, it don't take a secret psychic\n  Cause even in the future i'ma frak it when I mic it\n  [Chorus]\n  With flows rough enough to cut ya, beats enough to touch ya\n  Known to rock the cooles with the liquid rhyme structures\n  It's the man with vocal tones that hurt words to broken bones\n  I got flows throughout my body deep rooted like kidney stones\n  So tap into the cold while I torch mc's\n  Cause I be itchin for a scratch like the force md's\n  But yo fuck that, tash is in the wind with the gin\n  I gotta pass the mic to j 'cause he can't hold it in\n  I can't hold it in my friend the liks get the most clout\n  We be scorin points like michael irvin on the post route\n  And just like joi boy, I make your bones ache man\n  Just how much punishment can a rapper take man?\n  The homes be like where you been? man I been creatin\n  We had you salivation like the dogs that be waitin\n  For the kibbles 'n' bits, I love pits tits and rap hits\n  And Bruce Lee flicks, and clockin yapes with the liks\n  I can't hold it in I gotta speak my mind\n  There's a lotta half-ass niggas thinkin' they can rhyme\n  But their style is not buttah, it's more like busta without the a\n  You never think of nothin' fresh to say\n  The freshest dj from the state of ohio\n  I remember when you battled, cuttin up survival\n  Nots toe fucked with, used to brag and boast\n  Packed up my technics, now I'm on the west coast, now I\n  Damn, we gotta get that shit off our chest nigga\n  Yo before we get up out\n  I wanna shout it out to my nigga diamond d\n"}]