One Beer - Madlib Remix

I get no kick from Champagne

Mere alcohol doesn't - thrill me at all

So tell me, why should it be true?

I get a kick out of brew

There's only one beer left

Rappers screaming all in our ears like we're deaf

Tempt me, do a number on a label

Eat up all they MC's and drink 'em under the table

It's on me, put it on my tab, kid

However, you get there, foot it, cab it, iron horse it

You're leavin' on your face, forfeit

Of course, the mic, hold it like the heat, he might toss it

Told her tell him they stole it, he told her he lost it

She told him, "Get off it," and a bunch of other more shit

Gettin' money, D's be gettin' no new leads

It's like he eatin' watermelon, spittin' seed after seed

It's the bleed, give me some of what he's droopin' off

Soon as he wake up, chokin' like it was whoopin' cough

They group been soft

First hour at the open bar and they troopin' off

He went to go laugh and get some head by the side road

She asked him autograph her derrière, read

Too wide load, this yard bird taste like fried toad turd love, villain

Take pride in code words, crooked eye mode, nerd, geek with a cold heart

Probably still be speakin' in rhymes as a old fart

Study how to eat to die, by the pizza guy

And he's not too fly to skeet in a skeezer eye

And squeeze her thigh, maybe give her curves a feel

The same way she feel him when he flow with nerves of steel

They call the super when they need some black, uh, plumbing fixed

How it's only one left? The pack come in six

Whatever happened to two and three?

A herb tried to slide with four and five and got caught

Like, "What you doing, G?"

Don't make him have to get cuttin' like truancy

Matter fact, not for nuttin', right now, you and me!

Looser than a pair of Adidas

I hope you brought your spare tweeters

MC's sound like cheerleaders

Rappin' and dancin' like Redhead Kingpin

DOOM came do the thing again, no matter who be blingin'

He do it for the smelly hubbies

Seeds know what time is it like it's time for Teletubbies

Few got it, and even fewer can sell it

Take it from the man who wear a mask like a 'tarded helmet

He plot shows like robberies

In and out, one, two, three, no bodies, please

Run the cash and you won't get a wet sweatshirt

Mic the shotty, nobody move, nobody get hurt

Bring heat, like the boy done gone to war

He came in the door, and "Everybody on the floor"

A whole string of jobs, like we on tour

Every night on the score, comin' to your corner store