
lirik lagu tha alkaholiks - at it again
[intro]
ha
a~one~two, a~one~two, a~one~two, a~hey~hey
hey, hey, hey
let’s go (motherf~cker)
[verse 1: e~swift]
i call a foul on the play
you shook, like you got a child on the way
i took my time comin’ back and i’ma stay
and y’all gon’ show me my respect, namaste
and i’ma say this, i ain’t overlooked (uh~huh)
my passport’s full, i’m gettin’ overbooked (yep)
i represent the west coast underground
went to the land down under and i tore it down
uh~oh, they at it again
i spaz like i’m asthmatic with the pad and the pen
they say i threw my hands up, i took that on thе chin (yeah right)
never forfеit, man, i’m in the game to win
you never hear me ask where the syrup at
i’m too busy tryna bring my whole era back
matter fact, action speaks louder than words
so let me get back to it, sit back and observe
[verse 2: tash]
task talks third person, so i flow like it’s three of me
i’m secretly the best, nod your head if you agree with me
i’m seein’ we agreein’, so i’m peepin’ out the scenery
marijuana’s legal, let me tell you what this mean to me
free all the homies locked up for weed cases
keep the pedophiles, the racists, and freebasers
let’s face it, laws are racist towards the blacks and the esés
in and out of court, fightin’ cases for a decade
smh, i’m still shakin’ my head
i can’t hang with little homies pill poppin’ their meds
keep it up and they dead, or headed straight to the feds
they on five drugs at once, brain scrambled like eggs
f~ck the hotheads, i party with the potheads
that’s why all my n~ggas got bread
sticks, come and party with tha liks
30 years in the game and still bangin’ out the hits
[verse 3: j~ro]
it’s tha liks in the spot, we makin’ it hot
everybody on the floor like the doors are locked
i don’t give two sh~ts who the shoe fits
i serve mc’s from cali out to massachusetts
i took my dog out and came back with a new b~tch
you only keep it poppin’ ’cause your face got a few zits
who’s this? it’s j~ro, that’s third person
i walk in the spot with three birds served irkin’
fifty bags ain’t enough
my dog’s in the pound like daz and kurupt
swift and tash in the house, so they boarded it up
yellow tape around the bar ’cause they ordered it up
three grown dudes goin’ hard for the children
ain’t no beats left ’cause we already k!lled ’em
if you feelin’ that, throw your hand to the ceiling
if you feelin’ that, throw your hand to the ceiling, ah
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