[Verse One: D-Stroy]
Peep it
I was ridin', havin' fun with this chick
[???] stomach and click
I wanted a bathroom thinkin' where I could run into quick
She said, "Yo D, go to the bar."
She left me and stalled in her car
I went in and this white kid said, trying to hold a guitar
"Look, I don't know who you are
This stool's for customers only"
I know you don't know me
But can I please get in it, homey?
He let me use it
And this black guy playing the music said
"You abuse it. You look like you could have taken two shits."
He gave me his glass and said "You needed a drink
After that shit, you left the bathroom all heated and stink"
He repeated in sync with this white guy: "DAMN!"
"What kind of sandwich you had man?"
"Some [jamblin'??] ham?"
They embarrassed me, word, cause these ladies were there
With braids in their hair, acting all crazy with beer
This white guy said, "You a Arsonist, rap [comb bomb??]"
D-Stroy's out!
"Yo why don't you come back sometime?"

[Hook x2]
Three guys at a bar with stories to tell
Everybody's in the back ready to raise hell
But-but-but hold up: I see a stage and a mic
I got something to say. [Make sure that it's tight.]

[Verse Two: Sole]
Now I ain't one much for bars
Besides I ain't got a fake ID
So it's up to the hottest club in New York where I can get in chem-free
Tonight's featured guest is DJ Yellalot
An Illuminati MC, playing records wearing Pelle Pelle
Belly shirts to get in free
What's irking me especially is this black guy
Jerking me, testing me
Like my destiny is to be taken, saying
"Look, I got everything you want, man
From gold fangs, [hoobers?], tapes, punchlines
[??] new unwrapped pictures of Foxy Brown"
But if it's silent I want it
Now I'm reaching in my wallet
With this Puerto Rican fool wanting to breakdance and battle me for it
Being uncoordinated, I knew I'd never stand a chance
He tore off his chest to reveal a silk vest and Hammer pants
"Stand on the side, let me show you how!"
So I made my face meaner
"Let me freak some Wild Style!"
But then he broke into a macarena
Knowing I could never come that fresh, I packed my ego in the car
Drove all the way across town
To be a white guy, alone, chillin' in a bar

[Hook x2]
Three guys at a bar....
Three guys at a bar....

[Verse Three: Mr. Complex]
The freakin' phone won't leave me alone
The freakin' phone yo, yo
Who's speaking?
Oh, it's my Puerto Rican homeboy "D-Stroy!"
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
I'm proppin' and I'm stoppin' and I'm droppin' yo
I'm rappin', yo what's happenin'
He said, "Yo there's a show upstate."
Cool, I was up late writing rhymes
To play the part in this
Gig with the Live Poets, me and the Arsonists
Being on the rise, I'm like
Who's the organizer?
"Some white guy"
So might I speak to him on the telly? "Hello?"
Yo what's the deal, this is seal [??]
"Oh the spot you're gonna rock is hot
I got [hoards of roadies??] lining up and down the block"
Yo we're wit'it, we gonna split it in two cars, cause we're large
I pull up then I park the Dodge, thought it was a mirage
The spot looked like Cheers
"NORM!" and Cliff Claven
Sitting behind some beers
The bitch of a [mind?] never came close to
Dissed and Cliff [??] tryin' to go postal
[*Fighting Sounds*]