Bar Code - Tha Liks, Xzibit

The drunken funk’n has returned

Let’s take it back to the old school one time y’all, uhh

Ya fuckin with me?

Damn right y’all fuck with us boy

(Shotglass, ha! Ain’t it drunk) Alkaholiks, say what?

(Yo Tash, smack these niggaz up!)

With my Alkaholik style still comin of age

Free as a bird the beer fly on stage

Ain’t here for no frontin just to say a lil’somethin

A nigga like CaTash’ll get this motherfucker pumpin

I walk with a bop that make the cops shine flashlights

And I ain’t drunk shit, I’m still faded from last night

That’s right y’all, the Alkahol be spittin

Comin through bitches.

I drink a lot of ale, smoke a lot of L’s a day

Got kegs in my room and bales of hay

Twenty-five roaches piled in my ashtray

Some like it slow some live the fast way

All the ladies know I’m wild and nas-tay

I live the Rap Life like my nigga Tash say

I down the whole brew, never half way

I’m back and forth to the bar in the Likwid Cafe

Now put yo’bottles to yo’lips

When I sip, you sip, we sip — altogether now

Back, and, forth — to the bar y’all

Back, and, forth — to the bar y’all

They say one man’s trash is the next man’s treasure

Next man pain be the other man’s pleasure

Whatever you wanna drink ma we bought the bar out

Last cats to call out, who wan’fall out?

Worst case scenario walkin, I hate talkin

Do the damn thing, let your dogs start barkin

Embracin the bass (yeah) who keep you laced

with Henessey to the face, tequila with no chaser

Liks — bang kicks, kick dirt on tricks

Fuckin smoked out rappers y’all fiend for hits

I just — drop my shit, never stop servin

Everything bump even the two-way versions

I’m the West coast Julius Earving, been through the worst

Survived starvin to death and dyin of thirst

Come through, bring a homegirl, double the fun bitch

Cause two heads is better than one, so let’s go So if Tash die tonight, rap music don’t owe me shit

I done did it all homey off blood sweat and spit (yes)

Spit-zophrenic off about a half a gallon

of that strong shit that make me think Bucks like Ray Allen

Profilin in the beat-up ass bucket like fuck it Bitch I make this car look good

Knock on wood, knock on MC’s just for practice

Cause y’all niggaz can’t fuck with these drunken-ass tactics

We — stompin, rompin niggaz

with the bumpin rhymes that keep the b-boys jumpin

Sayin ho, ladies sayin ow Get it now front row wipe that brew from your brow

Cristal and malt liquor go down the same pipe

You drink with us you probably piss in the bed the same night

You throwin up on your clothes no hoes fo’sho'

Now you on your back pointin at the sky with your toes

— 2X as beat fades