Heavy Rotation - Lyrics - Expansion Team - Dilated Peoples

Title: Heavy Rotation
Album: Expansion Team
Artist: Dilated Peoples
Composer(s): Michael Perretta, James Anthony Robinson, Rakaa Taylor, Eric Brooks, Rico Smith

Lyric:
Y'all didn't bring no ice?
(Nigga)
Nobody brought no ice?
(Ahh, ah, ha, aww, yeah)

Yo, yo, pass the beer
(We drink in heavy rotation)
(Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout!)
One-two, one-two
(Ahh, ahh)

Dilated y'all
(Toast to this)
It's Tha Liks baby
(Toast to this)

And y'all can't come
(Close to this)
Dilated, heavy rotated with Tha Liks

I'm so outlandish, my rhymes the paint, the track's the canvas
Find me puffin' tampons on your nearest college campus
McEn-Ro, servin' up heat like Pete Sampras
Drinkin' Jose Cuervo like some Spanish bandits

Make women panic when I tell 'em I'ma vanish
Don't take it personal, these are eight-one-eight antics
Hoes, break your pockets like car mechanics
Every mornin', I bow down and pray like a mantis

Most women can't stand this but I, ain't romantic
So that thought you can banish to the city of Atlantis
Me and Tash met this tan bitch, made a Likwid sandwich
I consume strictly green leaves like pandas

Dig through ice for my brew, like they dig for woolly mammoths
I'm volcanic up in bitches that look like Dorothy Dandridge
Your style is Major Damage, it's played out and ripped up
It needs a bandage, how do you manage? I can't stand it

Hops, barley, water, yeast, grain
Distillery alcohol for the brain
So check it out, smoke fills the area
Drunk as fuck, launch off the aircraft carrier

Your vision blurred eyes start to blink
You overdid it homes, you had too much to drink
(Cut it out)
This bout's set for twelve rounds of pain
Tequila limes and salt, these cats hard to hang

Sixteen bar shark, teeth to fangs
Open off Tha Liks duck season, you're in range
Turn the page here comes the next chapter
Battle Ev? You sign with Blue Cross or AFTRA

Heavy rotation, dilate expansion
California funk, like Flav, we Cold Lampin'
Fuck the format 'til they can't ignore us
But chill Swift 'bout to kill after the chorus

Dilated y'all
(Toast to this)
It's Tha Liks baby
(Toast to this)

And y'all can't come
(Close to this)
Dilated, heavy rotated with Tha Liks

Dilated y'all
(Toast to this)
It's Tha Liks baby
(Toast to this)

And y'all can't come
(Close to this)
Dilated, heavy rotated with Tha Liks

I cook up beats like dope, they should call me illegal
We control the underground like Bugsy Siegal
And my crew is like the mob, we whylin' off that vino
High-rollin', takin' over your local casino

Year after year, my music pleases your ear
That's why my focus is right like Outboard gear
Tune in, this is like a family reunion
We like cousins and shit, hey, rockin' this bitch

Dilated and the
(Likwid MC's)
We gradually elevatin' to a
(Higher degree)

We smash through the underground like we
(SUV's)
And spit game to the hoes and let 'em know they gettin'
(Nuttin' for free)

Aiyyo, listen close, toast to West coast
Where bein' gangsta ain't a hoax, we kill folks
And C-walkin' ain't just a dance or a joke
We stay in heavy rotation, coast to coast

Yo, it's hard to pass the bar, ask your lawyer
Likwid, pour it on y'all from California
Programmers, spray this on your play list
If rap was hard liquor I'd be 'Leaving Las Vegas'

Live show radio mix tape massacre
It's a party y'all with room for more passengers
I turn mics to pistols and start rappin'
And turn pistols back to mics and start blastin' 'em

J-Ro, E-Swift, Tash and them
'Expansion Team', 'X.O.' chips, cashin 'em
I'm not fashionable but I am international
I called it like, I see it on stage like Supernatural

Honies, keep flirtin' like the flows are workin'
Don't stop 'til I'm certain then I close the curtains
Animal House shit, coast to coast like Tha Liks
I don't drink as much, but I'll toast to this

Dilated y'all
(Toast to this)
It's Tha Liks baby
(Toast to this)

And y'all can't come
(Close to this)
Dilated, heavy rotated with Tha Liks

Aiyyo, CaTash'll slap the track with a open fist backhand
I crack fans with funk then burn rubber like the Gap Band
Batman can't walk through my hood, it's no love
Tash'll jack him for his cape and sport that shit to the club

Is it love or is it buzz, that got my thinkin' patterns
Thinkin' yo' bitch is mine that's why you see me winkin' at her
She'll be drinkin' at a tavern, out of a glass size 8
Likwid Crew and Dilated make that ass gyrate

While you ask I take, anythin' that I could lift
Your rapper's rappin' like CaTash y'all DJ's rappin' like Swift
I was born with a gift, you niggaz used to average rappin'
Your styles is old as fuck, that's why my clique start cabbage patchin'

I do this for the beer, and for the ones that ain't here
Y'all, niggaz better make way for X, Ras and Saafir
I'm like a tattooed tear, Tash'll never go away
I'm 'bout to fill my quota I need X.O. every day

Dilated y'all
(Toast to this)
It's Tha Liks baby
(Toast to this)

And y'all can't come
(Close to this)
Dilated, heavy rotated with Tha Liks

Dilated y'all
(Toast to this)
It's Tha Liks baby
(Toast to this)

And y'all can't come
(Close to this)
Dilated, heavy rotated with Tha Liks

The extended family of Tha Alkaholiks
The extended family of the Likwit Crew
The extended family of everybody that smoke bud
Dilated Peoples in the motherfuckin' place y'all

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72906d69e8621d0b19832dded1fd5f26

Wlix - Lyrics - Tha Alkaholiks

Title: Wlix
Artist: Tha Alkaholiks
Composer(s): Ricardo Danell Smith, Otis Jackson, James Anthony Robinson, Jack Brown, Eric Brooks, Dudley Perkins

Lyric:
Alright, we're back on WLIX this is Voodoo and uh

Aiyyo, they came down, you know
I know y'all get asses all the time but do me this favor
I want y'all to bust the freestyles for us
I wanna know who's first up, you freestyle?

Yo, yo, we got Crackerjack from the Loot Pack
'Bout to se this shit off, ay Crackerjack
Set it off, I know we on the radio, yo Crackerjack
Set it off

Ya dumb dunce it goes once upon the rhyme, Jack is out
To clench a fist and drop flows that gets papes like The Abyss
All in this, freestyle's wild when I'm throwin' this
Non-bogus brothers shake the hip and toe and just

Get involved, roll with the sould, make the head nod
Look at the bash slash back, I kick the abstract
Make brothers say, "Damn, that rap's fat," recline that ass back
A smack-back and slap from Wild Child with the ramshack

I used to pick up the damn slack bed on the ramps back
In the days, when Eric, was in the, honey phase
Nowadays, turn in applications
Rockin' the Appalachians with the ladies with the sexy activations

On the Blackwatch, I own a black watch, although I'm Blackwatch
You want to, confront who? A microphone check, one, two
Complicated for ya, I got the naps that break the pics
Plus the props from the Liks

Ha haa, Loot Pack's on the rise
Sayin', "Liks, liks, liks boy, run your backside"
Yo, J-Ro, Mad Lib, my man
Just, get on the mic and please arise the jam

I bust the animated suspension, vocabulary wack MC prevention
My division is itchin' for the switch
Pitchin' upon the West coast, the best brad and boast
Bragadocious, ferocious emotional osmosis

I skip like the stone when I lake over a break
I rip microphones and I take over the fake crews
I wish I could sing like Smokey do
But I'm vocally locin' with the Loot Pack crew

I'm Mad Lib, the bad kid, brothers try to do what I did
Back in junior high 'cause I'm fly with my
Vocabulary tradition, total chaos rhythmatic
Static, in fact they case erase so stay off

'Cause nobody knows how it goes with the flows
And rows of hoes froze, chosen bust erosion on the lows when
The ill speak, plus the Liks knot thick
Mad quick to rock ya lip, like Hip-Hop to grits

But yo freak this, I come with uniqueness
I'm like Pepe LePew yo, hoes are my weakness
Back in high school you didn't think I could get nifty
Now, I'm on your magazine rack down at Thrifty

Since eighty-three, I've been housin' folks
All the way from Orange Country out to Thousand Oaks
It ain't another rapper in the country that can crunch me
If you don't believe me, run up and try to punch me

I flip the funk like Monk, Higgins when I'm diggin'
I'm swiggin' on a Snapple 'cause my crew be wicked when we gig it
I rock the mad vocab when my toe jabs I'm so bad
I make you flow bad like when I blow lads to pieces

No releases on the two steel wheels
Comes the lyrical skills that kills more ducks than oils spills
My niggaz run for the hills, I can track 'em through the mountains
Rico kick that kind of shit that got more bounce than Roger Troutman

So pass the weed to the top, top seed
With lyrics as deadly as the VD's that make ya lungs bleed
Plus I dig like coal miners through the crates of old timers
I be blowin' up the spot like dynamite with one-liners

Oh, reminder to my ex-bitch when I find ya
I'ma smack you for them times I had to start sixty-nine
Yes on the low, my nigga with the hat to the back
Get on the mic and show these niggaz where you at

Here I am doin' shows, wall to wall
Nate stacks tall I still won't fall
Never will I be sellout poverty, some don't believe in me
Still I get my verbs on, my verse on, I raps long

You're dead wrong, all in all should say the sale starts
When A&R says go, you start with the dope verse
And you're sold, now, you're on clearance when the record starts sellin'
But I'm not willin' to be uncovered from the depths of the under

I'm under, for the duration, the past present future revelation
I gain the trunks of those who comprehend
Because they know I send niggaz through the other end
Of this industry, commercial side envies me

Females are freakin' me, no time for 'em
At least not yet, just a few that I will call bitch
I'm not a player, strict rhyme sayer, say your prayers
Now, I lay me down to sleep, don't sleep, I'm on the creep

To invade the holes of the ill-minded
I find it's fat, rewind it back slack, not here boy
Wack to the skull-crack when I attack
Unleashin' crazy chaos you're way off, so stay off, I'm about to blast off

Word is bond, on this snoop babe, that's how we do it
And that's how we do it, on KLI, K, what is this? KLIX? Oh yeah
Where we at again? Ah it don't matter, we rock it for the whole world Anyway, yo we gotta give a shout out, a shout out

Can we give a shout out? I'd like to give a shout out to everybody that's Listenin' to this radio station right now, I hope you got your tapes
On record 'cause you know we just flippin'
Everybody that's down with real Hip-Hop
West coast, East coast, North and South

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af20b8b199c9663927590f1fcdf4dc17

Right On - Lyrics - Dilated Peoples

Title: Right On
Artist: Dilated Peoples
Composer(s): Michael Perretta, J Robinson, Rakaa Taylor, Eric Brooks, Rico Smith

Lyric:
Back in the days, my pops said, "Right on"
(Right on, right on)
All the street poets in the house, write on
(Write on, write on)

Black people, right on, right one
(Right on, right on)
All my niggas rollin' Chevy's on deep-dish chrome, ride on ride on
(Ride on, ride on)

I still rock the party till the needle starts skippin'
I'm trippin' like Pippen, Spice Rum sippin'
We're mentally fastest, head of all our classes
You couldn't pass us wit a rocket like NASA's

We all up in the house like cocky-roaches
Snatchin' MC's out the game like hockey coaches
Fuck it, I'll break you down like a bucket
I like the bass hittin' like a [Incomprehensible]

Close encounters of the Likwit Kind
I'm sick wit mine, writin' rhymes on picket signs
It's the J R O, you didn't know?
Goin' off in your face like a dirty pistol

You in the house of brews, crime scenes wit no clues
You walkin' home bruised, confused wit no shoes
You lose! 'Cuz you got the dilated blues
Here's some news, my DJ rock the mic and the one's and two's and I'm out

And I'm in
My words are like swords cuttin' the paper wit the pen
Yo, Dilated could never be annihilated
I waited two albums too long, somebody violated

We migrated to global positioning
All the DJ's listenin', Babu mixin' it
E-Swift yeah, the man, the myth
I pass the mic to Evidence for the assist then I'm out

And I'm in
My appetite for destruction will eat you up for dinn
Yo only one meal, get sliced to four courses
I'd take me serious, collect your man and forces

I strictly run off select input
Played yourself, don't have to shoot you in the foot
'Cuz you stepped outta bounds without making your rounds
Now you come to my town ask Rak
(Yo you on deadly ground)

These last four bars, I'ma heal all my scars
I'm a underground cat but still like money and cars
A Cali classic, that's my word, and my word's my bond
Dilated Peoples, alkaholiks, this joint's right on

My homie King T told me Big Tash, right on, so I'ma
(Right on, right on)
To all my forty-downin' homies in the house tonight
(Right on, right on)

To all the sexy-ass ladies if you feelin' alright
(Right on, right on)
To my Dilated homies that be rippin' the mic
(Right on, right on)

Whether you writin' or ridin', right on
Fresh MC's must write on
Even if you skateboardin', ride on
Some of these free stylers need to write on like my homie Tash

I got my write on late at night burst a verse until they flow right
My rhymes be action-packed, I wrote these lyrics to a strobe light
I'm Tashy, the flashy nigga jumpin' out that fast shit
Your rhymes won't impress me if you said 'em doin' back flips

I crack whips on phones, blow smoke out nose
Niggas peepin' out the style, hoes peepin' the clothes
A million flows off the slang, bizz-a-pow, bizz-a-bang
Likwit crew is in this bitch, my click be off the chain

Rap off the plane while crackin' champagne
Tash for president, you know my campaign
First things first to get y'all niggas off the street
You get twenty-five years if you part wit wack beats

You coulda came to Ev, you coulda came to Swift
That's why we escalatin' while y'all niggas need a lift
So give me two secs while I crack this Beck's
And once I drop the mic, my nigga Rak is up next and I'm out

And I'm in
I pick it up for everybody in the house that spins
My name is Rakaa, innovator of rhyme communication
Wit data like Star Trek, The Next Generation
It's dilation, fan appreciation

Connected nationwide, worldwide liquidation
Cali hard-hitters, we bump like car fenders
It's all chips
We only get boo's from bartenders

Better be sure, aim high, we top gunnin'
When we touch down, we hit the ground runnin'
Feds pull strings and watch me like Truman
But I can't front, I love L.A. like Randy Newman

To all the homies locked up writin' home, write on c'mon
(Write on, write on)
Graffiti artists around the world, write on c'mon
(Write on, write on)

To niggas rollin' on Katanas, quickly ride on c'mon
(Ride on, ride on)
To all the women out there raisin' kids alone
Right on
(Right on)
Right on
(Right on)
Yeah

Broadcastin' live from Southern California
Where we at?
Broadcastin' live from Southern California

Dilated Peoples
Represent wit tha Liks
What

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101c1318e59caf65aff3e6841a12a29d