Last Call Lyrics - Tha Alkaholiks

Intro: bartender and j-ro 

Yo last call, last call, last call for alcohol! 

At two, you're through! 

{j-ro} ay bartendah! bartender! 

{bart} yo whassup man? 

{j-ro} ay man, man let me get a... rummmmm an coke 

{bart} yo man don't you think you had a little bit too much to drink? 

{j-ro} ay just let me get one more man 

{bart} yo man I'm lookin out for you man, it's your life 

{j-ro} man I'll hop over this motherfucker and get my own damn drink 

Hey niggy, what time it is... 

Verse one: tash 

It's time to roll my sleeves, fuck a few mc's up 

Another rough cut, from the crew that won't ease up 

The alkaholik click, aka the forty downers 

Flips rhymes like calvin flips fries and quarter pounders 

I never drink and drive 'cause I might spill my drink 

I failed the breathalizer so they took me to the clink 

Niggaz earlin in the sink cause they can't fade the cisco 

I'm from the old school but I never rocked a disco 

Loops from the group that, likes to smack the bitches 

Tha liks is hittin hookers like a gangsta hittin switches 

Front, to the back, to the side, to the side 

And make you dance with these bitches but, no electric slidin 

And I'm about to flip, but first I'm bout to sip 

Off the forty ounce of brew that I was savin for the trip 

Back to the lab 'cause all I do is bang cuts 

That's why I hang around my group like a dick hang with nuts 

Verse two: j-ro 

I push one two's when niggaz step on my shoes 

Oh you haven't heard the news I've been giving fools blues 

Manhandling chumps that step up, just to keep my rep up 

I push my fist through your grill 

I never became a gangsta, thanks ta, my skill 

On the nine inches of steel 

You ask me what the k's for, they don't mean nothin 

["k's for the way my dee-jay's kuttin" -- schoolly d, p.s.k.] 

Chorus: tash, group 

Last call y'all {call y'all} 

Call y'all {call y'all} 

{last call, for alcohol} 

Last call y'all {call y'all} 

Call y'all {call y'all} 

{last call, for alcohol} 

[j-ro] yeah... word 

[tash] alkaholik style nigga 

Verse three: e-swift 

Uh, I be one of dem niggaz known to drink a gang of brewskis 

Float like the wind, so all y'all can call me cool breeze 

Cooler than my man morris day in the winter 

The dope rhyme inventor, rockin shows at the center 

So pass the mic on the, down low 

Now go grab a forty from the liquor sto' 

And you don't stop {don't stop} and you don't quit {don't quit} 

Unless you're in the studio making wack shit 

Chorus 

[j-ro] yeah... that nigga squid is in the house 

Verse four: j-ro 

I got a forty-four mag with the clip (with a clip) 

So mc's watch your lip, cause I'm shootin from the hip ahh 

I rip like oprah, in tight jeans do 

And splits a needle wrap a pair man because them shits is on the fritz 

It's crazy, a few mc's amaze me 

With this alkie style of rock, mr. spock couldn't phase me 

Rhymin pays me, but I do it anyway 

Many say, ay, when it comes to rhymes you got plenty j 

I'm so cool I drink forty ounces of freon 

You never see me on the stage with a peon 

When we on the microphone it's like jordan all alone 

We slam, competition, scram damn 

Can we get along? nope. 

Switchblade to the throat to mc's who ain't dope 

Call me j-ro the clepto, 'cause I'm stealing to the jaw 

Of these half-baked rappers, trying to get raw 

Verse five: tash 

Soul in my strut, muscle in my hustle 

It's just a little something for them punks that wanna bust they little 

Def jam comedy, raps that make me crack up 

You better call the one-time and tell em send a backup 

'cause I'm about to act up, I couldn't kick a verse 

J-ro say he got it bad, so that mean I got it worse 

Check uno dos, crack a forty, make a toast 

Let me rip the instrumental and impress the west coast 

Chorus 

[j-ro] uhh... damn it feels like my bones is rattling 

Uhh ohhh shit! I'm outta here... 

Ohh yeah, tell the sons of jones to kiss my ass