got it bad y’all lyrics – king tee

ladies and gentleman
that n*gg* king tee and the al-c*m-a-holiks

pooh-b*tts play the rear? cause i’m makin? yapes
the rhymes ain’t no thicker than a skittle grapes
a lot of girls would like to thank me for the hanky-panky
on the mic i hold a belt, now i know no one could spank me

it took a long time for the people to hear my rhymes
seems like i been rappin? since my birth in ’69
sorry to keep you waitin?, i run rhymes like walter payton
i get a rhyme like spokes on a dayton

but i won’t knock off, because i just rock off
the beats to get funky, like when you take your sock off
to all the white folks i would like to say howdy
and to all my brothers i say peace, quit actin? rowdy

wack mcs in? 92, ew, you need to take a rest
the public don’t you aim the best
you’re softer than a hooker? s chest
raps, i make? em, snaps, i make? em
for duties movin? booties? cause i shake, shake, shake? em

and i got rhymes, funky funky rhymes
e-swift hold the needle down with nickels and dimes
i drink olde english, st. ide’s and mickeys
when it’s time to roll, i throw on my black d*ckeys

on the mic i get wicked, like wilson pickett
i get the place jumpin? like a cricket when i kick sh*t
i’m from the west coast but don’t sleep home-stimpy
even if i was a paperboy, you still couldn’t rip me

i walk up and chalk up pairs like the knicks
i’m all in the mix like snares and kicks
when it comes to rhymes i get loose like belt buckles
those who chose to oppose this nose is felt knuckles

(where you goin’ to?)
to the tip
(and what cha? bout to do?)
? bout to rip
some people use the word funky too loosely
and just how many rappers say they kick it like bruce lee

(what’s your favorite brew?)
olde e
(and what it make you do?)
go pee
it used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes
now rappers rearrangin? and changin? like times

i got it bad, y’all, i got it bad, y’all
when it comes to the pen and the pad, y’all
i got it bad, y’all, i got it bad, y’all
when it comes to the pen and the pad, y’all

back the f*ck up, gimme room to breathe
not too many n*gg*z can flip the rhymes like these
i freak the technique as if it was a b*tch
got more soul than the pit with a fifth

pitch the ball, so i can beat it with the bat
talk some sh*t, so i can smoke ya with my gat
i’m feelin? kind, feelin? kinda, feelin? kinda, feelin? kinda
feelin? kinda buzzed off a sack of chocolate tie

my, my, my ho, i like to rip the shows up
smack the hoes that walk around with they nose up
run to the liquor store before they close up
buy a few 40s,? cause daily i get to’ up

sit at the crib and write riggy riggy rhymes
line after line after liggy liggy line
yo, i can get funky, buy my tape and b*mp me
to the break of dawn, i hit the bud and p*ss it on

hangin? at the park, shootin? cr*ps on the weekend
my brown bag is wet? cause my tall can is leakin?
starin? at the cops, beatin? up on rodney
while a pack of o.g.’s steppin? to me tryin? to rob me

just because i’m dope, n*gg*z wanna smoke me
on the mic i get funky while you’re doin? the hokey-pokey
dance steps, i think that you should leave to paula
alkaholiks is the sh*t, e-swift’s the smooth baller

is slangin? these rhymes like a rock
life ain’t sh*t but money and a glock
don’t punch a clock, but i c*ck a fat knot
so i can smoke a lot of pot that i roll up with tops

and ya ain’t heard sh*t yet, i’m just getting? warm
like hot b*tter on, say what? the popcorn
i’m headed to the top, please give me my props
my beats are fat as f*ck, so b*mp my sh*t in your box

i love to hit the skinz, but then again who doesn? t
i love to hit the herbs? cause it leave me feelin? buzzin?
i dedicate this chumpie to the poets who can wreck
and to all the nottie dreads, i gots to give them? nuff respect

(where you goin’ to?)
to the tip
(and what cha? bout to do?)
? bout to rip
some people use the word funky too loosely
and just how many n*gg*z say they kick it like bruce lee

(what’s your favorite brew?)
olde e
(and what it make you do?)
go pee
it used to be about rhymes, all about rhymes
now rappers rearrangin?, and changin? like times

i got it bad, y’all, i got it bad, y’all
when it comes to the pen and the pad, y’all
i got it bad, y’all, i got it bad, y’all
when it comes to the pen and the pad, y’all

up jumps the man with the loot
rockin? like a troop with the alkaholik group
everything is kosher, got a little taller
livin? kinda phat? cause king tee’s a baler

i just irritate the wack, leave? em so confused
when i’m checkin? on the mic with the ones and twos
sneak you a peek of the drunk technique
can’t stand up, need to take a seat

baby, baby, baby, it’s the alkaholiks
but i can freak the mic no matter how ya call it
metaphors grand, and i’m the great man
drink a whole fifth yes, i can, yes, i can can

the girls call me d*ck-em-down
got that t*tle rockin? for the crown
catch y’all later, around next weekend
i’m a alkaholik and i’m late for my meeting

/ king tee lyrics