Перевод песни Tha Alkaholiks – Last Call

Работает на технологии Яндекс.Переводчика
Yo last call, last call, last call for alcohol!
At two, you're through!
Ay bartendah! Bartender!
Yo whassup man?
Ay man, man let me get a... rummmmm an coke
Yo man don't you think you had a little bit too much to drink?
Ay just let me get one more man
Yo man I'm lookin out for you man, it's your life
Man I'll hop over this motherfucker and get my OWN damn drink
Hey niggy, what time it is...
It's time to roll my sleeves, fuck a few MCs up Another rough cut, from the crew that won't ease up The Alkaholik clique, aka the forty downers
Flips rhymes like Calvin flips fries and quarter pounders
I never drink and drive cuz I might spill my drink
I failed the breathalizer so they took me to the clink
Niggas earlin' in the sink cause they can't fade the Cisco
I'm from the old school but I never rocked a disco
Loops from the group that, likes to smack the bitches
Tha Liks is hittin hookers like a gangsta hittin switches
Front, to the back, to the side, to the side
And make you dance with these bitches but, no electric slidin
And I'm about to flip, but first I'm bout to sip
Off the forty ounce of brew that I was savin for the trip
Back to the lab cuz all I do is bang cuts
That's why I hang around my group like a dick hang with nuts
I push one two's when niggas step on my shoes
Oh you haven't heard the news I've been giving fools blues
Manhandling chumps that step up, just to keep my rep up I push my fist through your grill
I never became a gangsta, thanks ta, my skill
On the nine inches of steel
You ask me what the K's for, they don't mean nothin
Last call y'all
Call y'all
Last call y'all
Call y'all
Yeah... word
Alkaholik style nigga
Uh, I be one of dem niggas known to drink a gang of brewskis
Float like the wind, so all y'all can call me cool breeze
Cooler than my man Morris Day in the winter
The dope rhyme inventor, rockin shows at the center
So pass the mic on the, down low
Now go grab a forty from the liquor sto'
And you don't stop and you don't quit
Unless you're in the studio making wack shit
Yeah... that nigga Squid is in the house
I got a forty-four Mag with the clip (with a clip)
So MCs watch your lip, cause I'm shootin from the hip ahh
I rip like Oprah, in tight jeans doin' splits
You need a repairman because your shits is on the fritz
It's crazy, a few MCs amaze me With this Alkie style of rock, Mr. Spock couldn't faze me Rhymin pays me, but I do it anyway
Many say, AY, when it comes to rhymes you got plenty J
I'm so cool I drink forty ounces of freon
You never see me on the stage with a peon
When we on the microphone it's like Jordan all alone
We slam, competition, scram damn
Can we get along? Nope
Switchblade to the throat to MCs who ain't dope
Call me J-Ro the klepto, cuz I'm steeling to the jaw
Of these half-baked rappers, trying to get raw
Soul in my strut, muscle in my hustle
It's just a little something for them punks that wanna bust they little
Def Jam Comedy, raps that make me crack up You better call the one-time and tell em send a backup
Cuz I'm about to act up, I couldn't kick a verse
J-Ro say he Got It Bad, so that mean I got it worse
Check uno dos, crack a forty, make a toast
Let me rip the instrumental and impress the West coast
Uhh... damn it feels like my bones is rattling
Uhh ohhh shit! I'm outta here...
Ohh yeah, tell the sons of Jones to kiss my ass