The Next Level

Intro/Chorus: E-Swift<br><br>Welcome to the next level<br>The L-I-K-S, what makes them motherfuckers so damn fresh<br><br>Verse One: J-Ro<br><br>Youse a nigga everybody diss cause you can`t bust this<br>You got a bad name like Dick Butkis<br>Welcome to the next level, of rhyme flowin<br>Scratchin, hookin up beats, and hoe catchin<br>Everytime I come home, I got fifty messages<br>I only call back the girls with big big breasteses<br>Ooh, I got bitties, in all the major cities<br>The safest way to have sex is right between her (tittes)<br>I beeped this fillie from Philly, we was puffin on a phillie<br>She started actin silly, so I popped her like a willie<br>I`m like Cucamonga, I`m way out<br>And you know I got the flow that`ll never play out<br>I was raised in Cali just like a palm tree<br>I rock the mic from London to the Mohabi<br>Tash Diamond D and the Ro to the J<br>Amazing feats happen when we come out to play<br><br>Chorus<br><br>Verse Two: Diamond D<br><br>Out the funk bag of tricks<br>Just for kicks, I represent with the Liks<br>So here`s the vicks, I`m hittin harder than a brick<br>Tricks get slick, and face the dick real quick<br>You better recognize, adjust your bifocals<br>Your style is local, I sit on beats in Acupulco<br>I put words together like Peter Jennings<br>And skate on motherfuckers like Peggy Flemming<br>So woah to those who owe<br>From one oh four five six to nine oh two one oh<br>I`m sippin on pina colada<br>Two blocks off La Cienega, at the Ramada<br>But hold up, I`m not done yet<br>I get hard like the perm pimps wear on Sunset<br>So recoginize when you feel it<br>DITC, you can`t steal it, aight<br><br>Chorus<br><br>(Tash) My men, my men<br><br>Chorus<br><br>Verse Three: Tash, E-Swift<br><br>For all my niggaz in the places with blunts in they faces<br>Off the two turntables with the anvil cases<br>It`s the L-I-K`s that blaze and amaze that<br>[Gots to roll deep] in these crazy-ass days<br>Bu the Alkaholik rhymer, King Tee and Diamond D<br>Got the gats pointed at ya like we`re to round three<br>Cause nineteen ninety-four is the year we overdo it<br>With the house party beats and flowin like fluid<br>Cause ain`t nothin too but to do that shit and print it<br>But it`s all about the loot so every move is documented<br>And vented, by the man born for lyric kickin<br>Coolin out with your bitch eatin sweet and sour chicken<br><br>Exceeing Visa limits if the tab`s on you<br>I get drunk and reminesce about the shit I used to do<br>We used ta, take out crews as a hobby after two in the lobby<br>Me, Mike D, and my beatbox Robby<br>Sendin kids back to the lab for more practice<br>The only way they`d win, if we battled to see who`s the wackest<br>Ten years later, still a hip-hop slave<br>A prehistoric b-boy makin beats in my cave<br>The L-I-K-S, what makes them motherfuckers so damn fresh<br>It`s the, liquid flows that we spillin on ya<br>Broadcastin live from Southern California, and we out<br><br>Chorus