The Next Level

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