Can't Tell Me Shit - Tha Alkaholiks

I stop by the club, cuz it ain’t shit else to do it

I’m on the guestlist, it’s E-Swift plus two

Stepped to the bar, cuz, it’s a bad habit

Open mic night, so, the Liks gots to grab it

Check the mic, it sounds tight so

I guess we might rock the motherfucker all night yo

The niggas went wild, the hoes went crazy

We dropped the microphone then we Swayze

Oooh don’t I sound great when I down a black eighth

My style is much hotter than the enchilada plate

My name is James but the girls call me God when I’m humpin

I should get a gold medal for broad jumpin

Rappers, talkin bout, back to the old school

You never shoulda left in the first place fool

Now everybody wants to be a prophet

But I won’t quit rhymin bout my dick so get off it

You put a rhyme together but I only dismantle it

So gimme a high-five cause you just can’t handle it

If rap was a swimming pool I’d climb to the top

Plus a triple-back, hand me the mic and watch the belly flop

Dagnabit, I got a bad habit

It don’t matter where I’m at I seen a booty and I grab it

So niggas step back before you get lit

I’m a grown motherfuckin man and you can’t tell me shit

You can’t tell me shit, you can’t tell me a hot damn thing

You can’t tell me shit, you can’t tell me shit

I rock you like Lenny Kravitz, or Nirvana

I’m puttin suckers on pause like a comma

I never ate crepes, but I got the yapes

A superhero from the ghetto puttin creases in my capes

(Up up up and away, J-Ro!!)

I got more hoes than a canyon got echoes

I’m rougher than Bluto, tougher than a callous

My number one football team is Dallas

Cowboys, now boys, can’t you see I’m greater than

Your grandpops is my number one fan

You get ran on the court you dribble like Manute Bol

You try to take it to the hole *crowd roars* get that shit outta here

I’m more gifted than Christmas morning

I pull out a pen and write a rhyme when I’m boning

Me I’m tripping, let me light my Phillie blunt

Oh there goes my beeper, what the hell do Billy want

Man I quit selling weed

Well I got what you need

You can’t tell me shit, you can’t tell me a hot damn thing

You can’t tell me shit, you can’t tell me shit

You hittin corners with the Alkies seen you pull-out cuz you great

The crew who got another tape that’s bumpin harder, save it!

Rhythm and blues blew a fuse, and now it ain’t the same

They put a lot of Funky Drummers out the game

They samplin the fresh hip-hop breaks, just to make a hit

That’s why to me, R&B, really ain’t shit

So peace to all the real hip-hop niggyroes

The ones who knows about flows and rockin shows

I wanna say whassup to the ladies

I gotsta say whassup to the ladies

From the Atlantic, to the Pacific

I gotsta be specific, they know I’m terrific

I’m pushin up to the bars, got em screamin Alkahols

Ohh gosh call me Josh cause I’m bringin down the walls

MC extrordinaire, J-Ro came to set it straight

I never hesitate to grab the mic and meditate

In LA, most niggas walk the same

Act the same, talk the same, drive the same

Dress the same, shoot the same, fuck the same

But this is Ro and I got my own game

I drive through lyrics like I’m riding on the freeway

And I don’t give rappers, no kind of leeway

Chumps be hittin ejects cause I break necks when I flex

I be housin mo niggas than the projects

You can’t tell me shit, you can’t tell me a hot damn thing

You can’t tell me shit, you can’t tell me shit

Yeah, this goes out to King Tee

DJ Pooh, yo the whole crew

Yo D-Pimp for makin the track

That nigga Tash

Deadly Threat

This is J-Ro and E-Swift

Tha Alkaholiks, and it’s like that