Let it Out

Lyrics

[Intro: J-Ro, Tash scratched] That's Tha Alkaholiks functions (Conjunction junction) ("Anything you could do, I can do fresher...") It's the remix, brothers And for all the brothers out there that got shit on they chest they just wanna let out... [Verse 1: Tash] Anything you could do, I could do fresher When I'm on the microphone, I rock the shit without no pressure 'Cause I snuck my 40 ouncer past the bouncer with the stun gun I gots to get some lyrics off my chest, so let me run one 'Cause who's bad? Not Michael Jackson when I asked him I even rock the mic for seven days with Toni Braxton It's Tha Liks, rockin' like a 6 point 6 So while I be scoopin' bitches, you rush the porno flicks [Verse 2: J-Ro] For reals, I gots more skills than an occupation center I got your ho cookin' my dinner Action, lights, and cameras ain't needed Indeed, it's – the nigga that be gettin' rappers heated I'm J-Ro, and my style is darker than a mole My rhyme is so hot you got to stop, drop, and roll All Tha Liks releases – become masterpieces Oh Jesus, my style is slick like pork grease is [Hook] And I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out) They'll say, I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out) They'll say, I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out) They'll say, I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta, I gotta let it all out [Verse 3: J-Ro] I get in 'em when I sin 'em, the Alkaholik venom I'll fold your clothes with your body still in 'em The rhymes I got, hit like Ronnie Lott The only way you take my spot is with a shot I grab rappers by the hand and make sure they understand That they can't scrape J-Ro the man A nigga who stays – in the old school ways And just like sun rays, I can make your days We got more soul than James Brown in platform Adidas The Likwit Crew – comin' new like a fetus So run, tell your granny, your pops, and your girl Niggas like me gonna rule the world So all aboard the J-Ro train to FunkyTown Express from the West, so it's best that I clown [Verse 4: Tash] I bust the Alizé on ice, on down to Beck's brew I got more fame than Dana Dane, I hold mics like Donahue 'Cause I'm committed, admit it, you was 2 Legit 2 Quit it Dancin' with toilets, now you can't get busy with it With the vintage Olde Gold gettin' dusty in my cellar I throw my shit deeper than Jeff Hostetler So yo, what you got? 'Cause god DAMN it's hot It's the Alkaholik rhymer up in your night spot So ease up off my line, and let me rhyme I'll lose you like that jewelry that that bitch can't find On BET, and yo, it'll take a secret psychic 'Cause even in the future I'ma freak it when I mic it [Hook] And I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out) They'll say, I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out) They'll say, I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta let it all out (I gotta let it all out) They'll say, I can't hold it in (I can't hold it in) I gotta, I gotta let it all out [Verse 5: Tash] With flows rough enough to cut ya, beats enough to touch ya Known to rock the cordless with the Likwit rhyme structures It's the man with vocal tones that hurt words to broken bones I got flows throughout my body, deep-rooted like kidney stones So tap into the cold, while I torch MC's 'Cause I be "Itchin' For A Scratch," like the Force M.D.'s But yo, fuck that – Tash is in the wind with the gin I gotta pass the mic to J, 'cause he can't hold it in [Verse 6: J-Ro] I can't hold it in, my friend – Tha Liks get the most clout We be scorin' points like Michael Irvin on the post route And just like Troy, boy – I'll make your bones ache, man Just how much punishment can a rapper take, man? The homes be like "Where you been?" – man, I been creatin' We had you salivatin' like the dogs that be waitin' For the Kibbles 'n' Bits, I love pits, tits, and rap hits And Bruce Lee flicks, and clockin' yapes with Tha Liks [Verse 7: E-Swift] I can't hold it in, I gotta speak my mind There's a lotta half-ass niggas thinkin' they can rhyme But their style is not "butter," it's more like "butta" without the "A" You never think of nothin' fresh to say The freshest DJ from the state of Ohio I remember winning battles, cuttin' up "Survival" Nots to be fucked with, used to brag and boast Packed up my Technics, now I'm on the West Coast Now I – [Outro: Tash] Damn, we gotta get that shit off our chest, nigga Yo, before we get up out – I wanna shout it out to my nigga, Diamond D