Contents Unda Pressure

Verse One: J-Ro<br><br>I`m the beer rational outta national<br>My cash flow is thick like mashed potato-oes in the gravy<br>Wsup wavy, thanks to my homey King Tee-la<br>the host wit the most, Im coast to coast like Aunt Peela<br>the Cowboys beat the Steelers so nigga where`s my $50<br>boom bap to your cap if your eyes is lookin shiftee<br>In this game of rappin your ass will never win<br>and let you play b-b rickers wit Quik, Suge and Mack 10<br>who need to come join these words like conjunction<br>a friend before I bring the end to your bodily functions<br>when I speak I go deep, like when I`m stabbin it<br>You comin up empty like your Mother Hubbard`s cabinet<br>Cause you keep comin wit rhymes guns so deeply<br>Example is the school of mankind niggaz so peep me<br>you Range-Rovin, Tommy Hil and bustin glocks<br>while I`m in the studio bustin lyrics in my socks<br>and the A-C is broken, no jokin<br>we got the worm witout the coke-in<br>the fuckin DAT machine is smokin<br>The pizza still aint here, we out of beer<br>and I think this motherfuckin engineer is a queer<br>and my dip is blowin up my hip whats up honey<br>(eh J-Ro the land lord really wants his money)<br>AWW shit<br><br>Chorus<br><br>Contents under pressure, contents under pressure<br>I hope for the best and expect the worst<br>get stress off my chest everytime I bust a verse<br><br>Verse Two: Tash<br><br>Ain`t no describin<br>the way that Tash be feelin when he`s vibin<br>be feelin like a deadly secret agent on assignment<br>dont fuck wit microfilms, I want the microphones and tables<br>that some niggaz stole while I was at a meeting wit my label<br>cuz Tash will rock your cradle wit the fatal rhymes that pound<br>put you down cuz your lyrics suck more than Divine Brown<br>while Im off that Royal Crown gettin party at the Atmospheric<br>wit the 40`s and the Hennesy to get yall in the spirit<br>so bounce to the lyrics of the noble Likwit warrior<br>get the stress out or try to maintain like X and Gloria<br>poundin your surroundin stuffin at you from the Liks<br>styles harder to decode than grafitti on the bricks<br>so read my tag and weep, while I drive you off the deep<br>wit the Alkie style that rock you and made Quantum wanna leap<br>cuz Tash in the streets plays for keeps on micros<br>its the never ending quest for west coast rap titles<br><br>Chorus<br><br>Verse Three: J-Ro, E-Swift, Tash<br><br>Yo I walk in the place, kicks un-laced<br>wit a bitter beer face, (a 40?) naw a whole case<br>wit flows like these, we not your average MC`s<br>we be the drunken masters of ceremonies<br>these rappers come out hard then turn fake like rayon<br>put I choose to stick to the streets like a crayon<br>in order to go pop, we`d have to stop comin fresher<br>Contents under pressure....<br><br>And there ain`t no tellin when we bout to explode<br>like tall cans in the freezer when they get too cold<br>we gotta title to hold, west coast ghetto gold<br>more than half a million know these beats got soul<br>we still under pressure, thats my motivation<br>to let this drunk technique leak thru out the nation<br>Im stressed out, for weeks wit no sleep <br>and no roll in the studio cuz I know this shits gotta blow<br><br>When you see me on the mic we go buck for buck<br>We only battle decent niggaz, so be glad y`all suck<br>Cause if I take ten steps and turn around I`ll destroy ya<br>Cause my style be up in niggaz like I`m Oscar De La Hoya<br>The crew you got before ya, Tash the top gunner<br>so try to stay on float while the current pulls you under<br>Cause read what it stands fool, like on the bulletin<br>wit skills they couldnt teach your ass at Cal State Fulleton<br>I`m in the zone like the Bulls at home<br>wit mad stains on my shirt from all the beer and foam<br>Cause the crew wit all the brew, buries squads like treasures<br>Wit the Hennessee and Coke tryin to deal wit life`s pressure