Daaam! Cellar Remix - Nick Wiz

E-Swift test the rocket launcher—let's blow up

The spot, show ‘em what we got for the Ninety-Flow shot

I’m the brown bomber dropping verbal scuds, I write

Rhymes while my momma peel the skin off of spuds

This ain’t baseball, naw, Tha Liks won’t slump, so make

Room for the crew with beats that hump.

Yo

I’m the baddest man with a hit since Willie Mays, I’m playing

For the A’s.

O.G.

was right ‘caus «Rhyme Pays.»

I walk

Through a rainstorm, I didn’t even gt wet.

I was

Bailing through Hell, I didn’t even bust a sweat, so you

Must have a loco-motive—I mean a crazy reason

To wanna step up.

It’s sucker punk season

Bring it on, young one, so you can get done

I got more styles than the miles to the Sun

Ninety-three million, five thousand flows

And here’s one more for the hoes

Tha Alkaholiks got

Beats that’ll make you say (Daaam!), Tha Alkaholiks got

Freaks that’ll make you say (Daaam!), Tha Alkaholiks got

Rhymes that’ll make you say (Daaam!).

Every time I make

A jam, make you wanna say (Daaam!)

Yeah!

Alkaholiks for ninety-fo'

Making more duckets than Ross Perot

Check it out, yeah

Like that, Xzibit all in your grill

Hah!

(That's that nigga Xzibit!) Yeah!

I come through!

(‘Cause in Ninety-Four)

(It's all about the flows, the hoes)

(And the Forty-O's, nigga!)

Kick your

Dopest rhyme, I’ll break it up like 3rd Bass.

I’m from

The crew that sets it off by spraying beer in your face

So the Ninety-Four dilemma for my niggas that remember means

I’m stepping to the mic with lyrics colder than December (Brrrr!)

The liquidator with the hardcore demeanor’s

Busting out the perpetrators, I see through em like a Zima

So I’m never caught between a hard place and a rock

‘Cause I kill rhyme bandits bare-handed like Mr. Spock

I told chief not to start no beef.

He tried

To shoot me with his gun, I caught the bullet with my teeth

‘Cause I’m stronger than the bull that’s on the Schlitz Malt Liquor

Hitting up your cities with Tha Alkaholik sticker

‘Cause I feel like busting loose

It’s the wicked pain-inflictor with the Mickey’s deuce deuce

Dropping rhymes like a boulder on the twenty-one and older

With your momma with my picture tattooed on her shoulder

So rap artists, «Get ready to rumble!»

‘cause I

Got lyrics up my sleeve that slam harder than Mutumbo

I heard your demo tape—that shit was faker than a scam

While I be dropping shit that make you say…

Tha Alkaholiks got

The beats that’ll make you say (Daaam!), Tha Alkaholiks got

The freaks that’ll make you say (Daaam!), Tha Alkaholiks got

The flows that’ll make you say (Daaam!), Tha Alkaholiks got

The hoes that’ll make you wanna say (Daaam!)

I’ve been told

That my style is so cold, it make your nose runny

J, I make the ladies say, «Make money, money!»

I used to have a curl, but I cut my shit real low

‘Cause every weekend, I had a spin on the pillow

Watts, Willowbrook even shook when

I took a fresh-ass hook out my notebook

«Dan-na-dah, dan-na-dah!"—I love sports

I even watch soccer and the girls on the tennis courts

You try to tackle me?

You couldn’t make me fall

‘Cause I’ve been moving ahead since the day I learned to crawl

Y’all, aww shit, let me make a wish

I wish all the bunk emcees turned to fish

So I could just hook ‘em, take ‘em home and cook ‘em

That’s how I floss—yo, pass the hot sauce

When I walk down the street, I leave my feetprints in the concrete

‘Cause I’m fat, meaning I’m so complete.

You’re like

A freak on an elevator—I'ma fuck you up

It’s the Ro with the inebriated flow

I hate to boast, but I’m a host with most

And I’m ghost.

Here’s a toast to my peoples from coast to coast (Daaam!)