The Next Level Lyrics - Tha Alkaholiks

Welcome to the next level 

The L I K S, what makes them motherfuckers so damn fresh 

You'se a nigga, everybody diss 'cuz you can't bust this 

You got a bad name like Dick Butkis 

Welcome to the next level of rhyme flowin' 

Scratchin', hookin' up beats and hoe catchin' 

Every time I come home, I got fifty messages 

I only call back the girls with big, big breasteses 

Ooh, I got bitties in all the major cities 

The safest way to have sex is right between her 

(Tittes) 

I beeped this fillie from Philly, we was puffin' on a Phillie 

She started actin' silly, so I popped her like a willie 

I'm like Cucamonga, I'm way out 

And you know I got the flow that'll never play out 

I was raised in Cali just like a palm tree 

I rock the mic from London to the Mohabi 

Tash Diamond D and the Ro to the J 

Amazing feats happen when we come out to play 

Welcome to the next level 

The L I K S, what makes them motherfuckers so damn fresh 

Out the funk bag of tricks 

Just for kicks, I represent with the Liks 

So here's the vicks, I'm hittin' harder than a brick 

Tricks get slick, and face the dick real quick 

You better recognize, adjust your bifocals 

Your style is local, I sit on beats in Acapulco 

I put words together like Peter Jennings 

And skate on motherfuckers like Peggy Flemming 

So woah to those who owe 

From one, oh, four, five, six to nine, oh, two, one, oh 

I'm sippin' on pina colada 

Two blocks off La Cienega, at the Ramada 

But hold up, I'm not done yet 

I get hard like the perm pimps wear on Sunset 

So recognize when you feel it 

DITC, you can't steal it, aight 

Welcome to the next level 

The L I K S, what makes them motherfuckers so damn fresh 

My men, my men 

Welcome to the next level 

The L I K S, what makes them motherfuckers so damn fresh 

For all my niggaz in the places with blunts in they faces 

Off the two turntables with the anvil cases 

It's the L I K's that blaze and amaze that 

(Got's to roll deep) 

In these crazy-ass days 

Bu the Alkaholik rhymer, King Tee and Diamond D 

Got the gats pointed at ya like we're to 'round three 

'Cuz nineteen ninety-four is the year we overdo it 

With the house party beats and flowin' like fluid 

'Cuz ain't nothin' too but to do that shit and print it 

But it's all about the loot so every move is documented 

And vented, by the man born for lyric kickin' 

Coolin' out with your bitch eatin' sweet and sour chicken 

Exceeding Visa limits if the tab's on you 

I get drunk and reminisce about the shit I used to do 

We used ta, take out crews as a hobby after two in the lobby 

Me, Mike D, and my beat box Robby 

Sendin' kids back to the lab for more practice 

The only way they'd win, if we battled to see who's the wackiest 

Ten years later, still a hip-hop slave 

A prehistoric B-boy makin' beats in my cave 

The L I K S, what makes them motherfuckers so damn fresh 

It's the, liquid flows that we spillin' on ya 

Broadcastin' live from Southern California, and we out 

Welcome to the next level 

The L I K S, what makes them motherfuckers so damn fresh