|
|
22.11.1994 |
1. | |
2. | |
3. | |
4. | |
5. | |
6. | |
7. | |
8. | |
9. | |
10. | |
11. | |
12. | |
13. | |
14. | |
15. | |
16. | |
17. | |
18. | |
19. | |
20. | |
|
. . .
|
|
[Dr. Trevis]
OK Redman, on the count of three I want you to
completely forget how you did the first album
Erase data number four exhibit C-Y protanium
Now... what I want you to do is concentrate
Concentrate on how you will do the second album
No funk element too nucleus to the ninth power
Exhibit four-L-W
Now... when I count to three
I want you to fall into a deep mind of emotion
But before you do Redman, I want you to
Light this shit up high!
[Redman]
*somebody whimpers*
Tired of burning, ahhhh!
*whispered* Kill that motherfucker
Yeah, help me get out of here
*whispered voice cackles* Die nigga die!
I don't wanna die
*whispered voice* Die! Hehehehehe
[Dr. Trevis]
I want you to concentrate very hard on how you will do the second album
I want you to take the funk where it has never gone
I want you to take this LP to where no other LP has risen
You son of a bitch!!
Dr. Trevis signing off
[Redman] *beginning of Bobyahed2dis music*
Ahhhhhh...
You are now about to enter the psychotic mind of Redman
Let's take a journey on a funk cosmic adventure
to where no other nigga or bitch has ever entered
Let me lick your funky emotions with my cosmic lyrics
From a place we call hell, and beyond...
. . .
|
|
[Jeff Stewart]
And I say... right about now you are rockin with the best!
Can I get a hit? *inhale* *coughing* Thank you *coughing*
What you're about to experience is a walk on the Funkadelic side
Who knows better than the Funkadelic devil himself
To all knotty head niggaz, bob to this
Come walk with Def Squad on the darkside
Coming to you live and direct without further adieu
I bring to you Redman one more time
This is Jeff Stewart and you know how I do it... god DAYAM!!!
[Redman]
So who's that funky nigga that's known to kick the fat shit?
The mirror said "You are, you conceited bastard"
*cutting and scratching of bastard*
Done by the dogcatcher, dogcatcher, it's the dogfetcher, I betcha
Aahhhhhhhhhhh, with the slang
Get you coughed up from the weed it'll bust your brain
The top notch of hip-hop and I'm on the charts
I'm catchin applause when I rock the micraphone from the heart
My style's foul, so look into the eyes of Lorimars
As you can see, I drop funk bars from here to Mars
Still rollin down the highway wit my forty between my lap bitch
Crossin DTW, coming into my lap and
Boy my skills are stacks, I love to do it from the back
My style swarms over ghettoes like crack
Blow in any hood and puff a blunt with any nigga
As long as we both got, it don't matter who's gun bigger
But I bet you you can't do that, cause the multiplatinums
can't save your ass on the block, and you're fucked if it ain't pop
The funk is blowin wattage out your fuckin trunks
Like peak Puma, I known to give a whole lots of lumps
Props I got, coming through your block nine cocked
My socks, even got three-eighty-nine shots
Don't press it, I hang em like them niggaz do in Texas
You don't have no heart you chestless, cuz your heart's on my necklace
I give props to real MC's like KRS-One
Kool G Rap, Buckshot, Busta me and I'm from
The East coast!! Where a nigga like you get that fat?
And since you came out gassed, well I'm closin your gas cap
The creature, from the deeper, ultimate funk freaker
Represent New Jersey, keep your eyes up on the bleacher
A menace like Dennis, I got game like Ennis
I can french-kiss my lyrics, then I run trains with sentence
Lord have mercy! It's too much funk to cope with
Droppin dope shit after dope shit, we're atrocious
That's from the lungs, that rings from here to kingdom come
And I don't have to be a Special Ed to get dumb!!
. . .
|
|
(explosion)
Woo-woo-wowowowooo!
Lord hi-gher
Could somebody, turn on, da lights
Somebody, turn on, da lights
*coughing*
The darkside! Yessss...
Verse One: Redman
Guess who's back when I bring funk like Zapp
All aboard motherfuckers! While your brains get jacked
I'm souped like two scoops of funk juice, word to mother
The way I kick you swear that Jim Kelly was in this motherfucker
The darkside brings apartheid
I act wild like them niggaz from Chi-Town on the Southside
Sweeter than this, whoopin niggaz down like Jack Nich
when I backflip my tactic graphics
Ooooooh! Redman jams it in
Due to difficulties I won't be done by ten
Friend I got bust shots out the twelve Benz
And then we get the bam-ba-zee from one-ten
Or is it further up? Plus my style murder ducks
So what the fuck, you got the mic turned up fo'?
When I Chief Rock underground MC's drop like sheet rock
Here's a ride to the underground
Chorus: repeat 2X
To the beat y'all...
Ah to the beat y'all, I do the freak y'all
I keep the buddha to last me through the week y'all
Verse Two: Redman
Come take a trip on my cosmic movie boogie flicks
Far beyond space so niggaz say your grace
It's a True Lie that I bring drama like Schwarzeneggar
When a baby, I had other babies in labor catchin vapors
With two gats I move like too fast like Paxton
Ask Toni Braxton who got seven days of action
Black stars or moons eclipse the volume
Bang zoom I'm sendin honies on the moon with ten bags of boom
Ridiculously I will pimp an MC
To degrees I leave spots like chicken pox, check the synopsis
I grow confusing just like Rubik's cube boxes
Float like the butter, fly so what if I
blow your lenses, tear the fuckin hinges
Did I mention that my lyrical format gets more ahs than a dentist
When I'm in this, the knotty-headed era causes terror
Y'all gimmick motherfuckers better get y'all shit together
One for the money and two for my peeps
Nynex can't even reach my technique or rap sheets
For the Squad I lick two shots word to God
Then take y'all dreams and imaginations
To the darkside
. . .
|
|
Switch...
[Dr. Trevis]
Hahahahahahaaaa!
Come with us
Come take the elevator shift six billion feet beneath
Where the Def Squad dwells
Where your dreams and imaginations is only
loose change in a motherfucker's pockets
This is Dr. trevis coming to you live from WFDS
We're From the DarkSide radio
Niggaz, better get your flashlights
cause it's pitchblack!
[Redman]
I travel the Milky Ways, and the stars of the Gods
Then return six billion feet beneath to get cigars
My lyrical format sounds off like gun claps
Underground, where you need flashlights and hard hats
My mind is ten levels deeper than Jacob's Ladder
Batter the paragraph, after your gall bladder will shatter
Nyphomaniac on track when I Flex like Funkmaster
Flex you can bet I'm not playing with a full deck!
I go far beyond acting hard and pullin triggers
I just wanna die and come back as the Nile on the river
Zone until I figured, how to wake up in the morning
And the corners of my mouth be like foamin when I'm open
Y'all neighborhood roughnecks, I cause a threat
My silhouette, who pack smacks niggaz just like Treach
Comin through comin through, put your hands on your handfun
Cause I'm crazy off that chronic from my man grandson
I shoot to kill, puff blunts in Hooterville
I be murderin MC's from up here to Urbantown
I sweat dark, when I get off my shit ock
Yoyoyo that's that's E and them!
Yo word up? Yo what's going on?
Yo chill chill chill chill
*car squeels, bullets fire and ricochet*
*tires squeel and car crashes*
. . .
|
|
Still walkin down the streets with my hand on my black tec
My brain is high like Newark New Jersey do car thefts
I'm high, when I sag my 2 Black Guys
I would be brief but my Karl Kani's didn't dry
I smoke the blunt for all you underground chumps
My smoke bangs like it's freshly picked from the swamps
So nigga how you roll a blunt? Aiyyo, how you roll a blunt
Flip the script on some other shit like how you roll a cunt
Now, I smoke the Maui, wow-wee
Then I'll be back for me, I'm Sure, like Al B.
Go Uptown, smoke quarter-pounds at the Dungeon
Keith Murray meets me at the spot with the Bom-Ba
Go back to Jerz and smoke with Diezel Don
Huh, pick up a bag from my block, two-oh's the number
Who can get swift with the microphone mist
Plus I'm crisp like CD's on LP's in 3D
My funk respect it, cosmic injected
That cause me to Set It Off just like that club record
Hit it from the back, stay strapped like two packs of lubricants
It's gonna hurt -- no it's not a gat experience
The funk dweller, creeps through your cellar
And if your moms don't know your ass better tell her, like this y'all
There's a million and one blunt spots all over the world
That got good herb for all you boys and girls
Which one do you go to? *many shouts*
Which one do you go to? *many shouts*
I'm packin buddha by the pounds and pull my Phillies from knapsacks
Hey yo I didn't know your nickel bags come that fat
Yo check it, my lyrics strip the track butt-naked
Catch the Local to the A to the buddha to my vocals
and I, set the world on fire
Get a billion people higher, from just one blunt in my cypher
You swore to God you was mixed in bom-ba-zee
The rhymer Bombs Squads and MC's like Hank Shocklee
I spend a knot at all the buddha spots
From fifteen to fifty-fifth I ran all through the blocks
I set it off jock, I light a blunt for my nigga D
That's doin three pack, now where I get the hash at
You can't fuck with my funk cause my funk is kinda abstract
Past that, I'm rough like McGruff on dust
There's a million and one blunt spots in America
Yeah I'm tellin ya
Now just throw your blunts up in the motherfuckin air
Smoked out with niggaz from North Newark to Montclair
I rip the nouns from antonyms to synonyms
Cause I got soul like James Brown and rock M&M
One of the America's Most Blunted
Smoked out with MC Eiht and Compton Most Wanted
Ninety degrees, smoke with L.O.D. on the Island
Then back to Stat, to smoke more packs with the Shaolin
I showed the women how to roll a blunt stronger
But it didn't work, because they Lee nails got longer
But the weed is good for when you're mackin
and girls can front it off like they don't know shit that happened
I know what happened, I told her, BACK, NICK that motherfucker
So check!
My stamina, your ass couldn't snap with cameras
Leave you on your back like Godzill did Gamera
Props on blocks smokin the choc and what-nots
I might catch a nickel bag sale from bus stops *needle rips record*
. . .
|
|
Y'all motherfuckers buckle y'all motherfuckin seatbelts
If you need to get high, there's a mask and shit in the overhead compartment
I can't tell y'all what the weather's like cuz my radio's fucked up
And if we should experience any type of motor difficulty
Don't panic, take one more hit off the oxygen mask
Calmly put your hands between your legs
And kiss your black ass goodbye!!
I'm swift like a motherfuckin gift for Christmas
When I send my vapors off like Halls menthalyptus
My verbs and nouns shatter walls of underground
Let me be blunt: I like crackin brews with bitches
The ninety-four era I cause terror, whatEVER
Rainin on you punks with the funk, so get your umbrellas
My guns cruise, tennis shoes, what's happenin
I got clapped on, now I'm the one doin the clappin
I'm Flexi Wit Da Tec like Artifacts make Memorex
blow tape decks when I'm more strapped than latex
Felt like menopause, I make niggaz act like beatches
Yo yo that nigga Red be frontin -- with they ass full of stitches
Woo! I just don't give a FUCK
I bite your whole nipple off, sick like sickle-cell anemia
Travel around my curse universe
I'm droppin 98.7 degrees down to Red Alert
Droppin the slang, I'll bust your brains with the real shit
Come hit my blunt so I can make y'all feel it
Abuse niggaz verbally so call Dyfus
I'm a warrior, to the heart, but I didn't kill Cyrus
Noorotic, my style format rocks the project
I get as ill as chief of police on narcotic
Give me a time and I'll free your mind and lick your
funky emotions, to blow your veins up with funk overdosing
Now who's that nigga that got your crew bellin?
Not with guns with funk when I rock tracks like Van Halen
I'm in the world, with Jacob's Ladder
I'm seein a lot of happy copycat rappers actin like they got asthma
They attackin me, they slowin they rhymes down actually
They got factories with little dolls named after me
But it's no question my funk segment leave the whole atmosphere
pressed-in, I take advantage of niggaz like I was molesterin
Newark New Jersey's what I represent
Iiiiiiiyiiiihhhhh
My brain be zoned and I phoned home to ET's home
and to hook me up with stash spots to put my chrome in
Whattup to Prince Street, Avon Ave I roll a spliff with
Fat to be passed through Bedrock and Diamond District
So what the fuck I got clapped on for my truck
Then I laughed cause fuck the cash I just wanted my tape bag
Fantastic fabulous my shit is fat shit
The bomb like Elway throw bombs on John Madden
Fuck that, let's get to the point, my shit's the joint, I roast
Motherfuckers from the East coast to the West coast to your breakfast
voltage, I got funk for days by the buckets
PPP packs a bunch of wild motherfuckers
Hold hold hold, wait wait wait
Let me school this bitch
Yo bitch my shit is tight, can any MC do this
*sounds of sex*
And come back on the mic?
I think not, my paper make pen leave nuff ink spots
On blocks where your punk ass still bustin off slingshots
Talkin shit about me when I'm drivin by slowly
Sayin I'm this and that when half y'all punks don't even know me
Now just for that I let your girl suck my dick from the back
and let your moms give me cornrows on my crack
Cause I'm nasty like that
. . .
|
|
Yo that kinda leaky in that shit right there
Mmhmm, that shit look like the BOMB, huh
Oh yeah, let you take a puff of that shit and just blow the fuck up
Hahaha, nigga blow up, BOOM
That's why your album like
Ahh, that shit you be doin
Where the fuck are you coming from?
Why the fuck are you always walking from that way?
Who?
You
You know, you know that's the first time you ever seen
me walkin that way in like sixteen months
Man you crazy, I always see you walkin through that way
Man I be on a, I be creepin through the hood
. . .
|
|
Intro: Keith Murray
Yeah, bout to fly that knot
Redman, Keith Murray, Erick Sermon with the, Cosmic Slop
And we all pack glocks
Word is Bond, word is bond
Fuck around and get shot
Verse One: E Double
As I flip, skip to the beat, on wax, and tax
I react with tons of macs, a ball, and some jumping jacks
Flyin expert, puttin in work
No question, cosmic funk and weed session
Like GangStarr, step up, it's Hard to Earn
But I change up the mode, and blow up the globe
The bandit, spittin dialect umm (UMMM)
Catchin wreck umm (UMMM)
One two micraphone check (UMMM)
Attention passenger's we're on a non-central journey
To Hell and beyond
FUNKADELIC DROP THE BOMB!!
Verse Two: Redman
Boo-yaa!
I'm that type of nigga to give it to ya
My Cosmic Slop rules all blocks with funk maneuvers
My flow freeze the Nile, The Funk Child splits the river
Then I crush, like the bom-ba-zee was rushed, through my verbal lust
I'm spaced out, I LOST MY MIND ON CLOUD 19
VISINE FOR EYES, when I blow Alpines
Dial 9, 0-0, For the hero of the wierdos
I hope my brain don't bust
Transform into a 7-11 Slurpie Slush
IT'S THE FLY, My music will burn eyes
Twice the chemical of Clorox
Then I do an autopse on four cops
When my jaws drop, ock, I fidget my nuts alot
Got the two glocks, with oowops then bodies trace the chalk
I'm like an eclipse on a Friday, the 13th
With black cats and Haley's Comet, blazin blunts in my driveway
Nostradamus predicted, for you funk fiends
That Def Squad will get the fuckin cream like Noxem...geyeah
For those that remember pics and afros (it's on like that)
Platform shoes and bell-bottoms some got em
Spaced out, way out, is what I'm talkin about
In the Cosmic Slop of the Ghetto
zuzuzuzuzu, zuzuzu, zuzu zuzu zuzu
zu zuzu, zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu
Verse Three: Keith Murray
With amazing manifestations, I dictate to nations
More Cosmic Funk innovations in my creation
This Cosmic sick mic cylcicyst
Mega segments, be Sega, like Genesis
I orbits the solar system, listenin
Guzzlin, never sippin, or slippin and sympin when the track is rippin
I gotcha brain cells bendin and twistin
Man listen, I give your whole crew a ass drenchin
Just for mentionin, goin that route, runnin yo mouth
You get your head smacked off towards down South
And your crew too will be spaced out
Way out, no doubt, y'all niggaz need to stop
And get with this Cosmic Slop
(Cosmic Slop, Cosmic Slop)
And now, we program, we program
Pop in the disk and who the hell is this?
. . .
|
|
(Pop in the disc, and who the hell is this?)
Sat down and opened my mind and said it's time
For me to design the right lines
Make you one of a kind boy rough and tough and all that stuff
Sure enough I'll make the brother's change their minds
Then you understand my only principle
No need to fuck with the born invincible
I'm rated X like a porno feature
Leaving MC's dazed, and catching anesthesias
Even females get rocked when they try to cock
Block the man from doing this hip-hop
Techniques unique and that's my word is bond
Rockafella's the name but the screaming I'll rock on
. . .
|
|
Intro:
Aiyyo-yo-yo-yo you better pass it
Aiyyo check this out
We coming to you live from that BOMB Chocolate City my man
Where the knotty-headed niggaz and the Brick City brigade dwell
And if you don't know your fool better ask
Aiyyo-yo you better pass that blunt
And yo E, we comin to you live with the Cosmic type stuff
Verse One: Redman
Well it's that brother coming six billion feet from beneath
And you should be peep-in how I get smoked-out on the weekend
I swing it to my crew or down to my fans
Schoolin hell of stackas like final exams
Cause, it's the (UH!) Funkadelic, hit you with the irrelevant
elements, and it's coming through your block
Can't you smell it trick?
Wanna copy-cat my whole format
So you get funk tracks, punch lines and skull hats
HUHHHHHHH! Got a little Redman in town
Who's that effin clown soundin wack with the frown??
I don't know man, but you better wonder what I would do
While loud on this staff like birds one and two
My crew runs thicka than syrup from the burough
You get hurt up, word up, Jam-med like Pearl
Knock off from blood clot puff on the rough block
Or I peep my man, Rockafella, it don't stop
Chorus:
On and on, and it don't quit
Redman rockin on to the funky shit, c'mon
On and on, and it don't quit
Redman rockin on to the funky shit
I said Jersey's in the house
Jersey's in the house
I said Brooklyn's in the house Brooklyn's in the house
I said Uptown's in the house
Uptown's in the house
I said the Bronx in the hidouse
The Bronx in the hidouse
Verse Two:
Newark, New Jersey, rock rock on, word is bond
I'm comin in swarms, so turn your flashlights on
Due to difficulty, my style flows while it travels across the planet
in 48 Hours like Nick Nolte
Droppin the flavor, stay Sky high like Pager
I'm magical like Fantasia on paper
I Saw the Light like Kraftwerk, of course
When the T-L-A Rock shock the stuff, It's Yours!
To your drawers, your record label got your staff gassed
Thinkin you gonna sell two mil cakes real fast
But you're blocked, and your earrings choke like a tec
Now, who freakin style your ass gonna steal next?
Are there any more imitators in the house?? There are no
Bust like NBA Jams, and you can have Chicago
Catch the cargo, funky like a bag of Bravos
Way back, when I used to pump 92 KTU and Carlos
Huuhhh! I just stay funky like that
Make you wanna (sssss) my style like a junkie on crack
Trick, you better back the freak up, for real now
When I break it down from Newark NJ to IllTown
Chorus:
On and on, and it don't quit
Redman rockin on to the funky shit, c'mon
On and on, and it don't quit
Redman rockin on to the funky shit
I said Virginia's in the house Virginia's in the house
I said Cali's in the house
Cali's in the house
I said Atlanta's in the house Atlanta's in the house
North Carolina's in the house Carolina's in the house
Verse Three:
Yoo-hoo watch the birdie!! While Red wreck your brains early
If rap was B-Ball, I'd have assists like James Worthy
Dribble the rock if you got the hots to get your knot rocked
Twice my device, Run-D.MC's from my Rock Box
Hey you, better Come Clean like Jeru
Before I take phase two and do another pay-per-view
to your crew, I give a boom bip to Q-tip
Standin tall like Shaq, honey I'm back, this ain't Blue Chips
The new stuff, creamin brothas like Breyer's
He's heating up -- nah, brotha, I'm on fire!
Dribble dribble shootin three pointers to the drum trick
Try to take my style? BLAOW! and one
DJ Twinz in the house for the nine-square
My man Shaft, you don't know you better ask
Outro:
That bomb Chocolate City coming to you live
from the ninety-fo' era
Aiyyo you better pass that blunt, aiyyo check this out
We gonna take it to you live
where Newark New Jersey drops that chocolate funk for ya
Everyday and all day, how we do it word is bond, word is day
Def Squad's in the house for the nine-fo', word is bond, word is day
The sad Hawthorne Ave. got the good smoke, word is bond, word is day
Knotty-head niggaz in the house for nine-fo', word is bond, word is day
Brick City brigade in the house for nine-fo', word is bond, word is day
Redman rocks on and on for the nine-fo', word is bond, word is day
Word is bond word is bond in the house I'm in the house
Word is bond, word is day
You can suck my balls and lick my butt, word bond, word d, ehehehehehe
Word bond, word day
Hehehehehe, word is bond, word is day
Check it out, check it out
We comin to you live with the Cosmic Slop
On the fuckin block and we got the glocks
To your knot, who's the funk nigga and I'm comin to ya hot
It's that, Cosmic Slop, hit you with the irrelevant, ele, yeah
. . .
|
|
Motherfuckin, ladies and gentleman
My style's rugged like Timberland
When I clock lyric then women give me more love than Wimbledon
My style flow local like New Jersey transit
And I can't stand it
And you'll need Teddy to unjam it when I cram it
I'm from N-to-the-E
W-A-R-K, Newark NJ got the AK
When I wave bitch you better say heeyyyyyyyy
I'm a Kid From the Hall
I got big balls to make your pussy walls dribble in my drawers
Hey boy this is the way the East coast swing it so bring it
Man I told you ass Brown-er than James with the Sex Machine shit
I keep the chronic patrol on the road
in case you're wondering why I keep my izm
Cause I smoked everybody else's shit up
My style's the ultimate funk when I mic checka
One two checka
And I give effects to niggaz with my Black and Decker
So check the, manuscript, man you flipped
Put it down if you can't handle it
Got a B-R-C-G, Blunt Rollers College Graduate
I got a degrees in Physics on how high I can get
Then next I check how many niggaz that can die from my Tec
Cause the N-E-W-A-R-K is where the niggaz robbin and stealin
and fuckin niggaz everyday
Now Jersey's on max so pass the dutchie on the lefthand side
Hide the hidash, in case we cridash, in my ride
So, sliiiide, before I call the medics
You can bet bitch you couldn't get fly if you were FedEx
Can I, drop the funk on ya, run it on ya
Strong as ammonia, smell it from here to California
Cause Reggie Noble dropped that cock named Noble at Sunoco
I'm better than rice and beans when I rock you ocho to ocho
My music more underground than a kid at 300 XL
Convertible, fuel-injected, that's why my style's well-respected
I'm dope on the ridealz, so fidealz, on my didealz
And chumps are wondering what two niggaz dropped the funk funk
Verbally you never heard of me I smoke you third degrees
and cause surgery for emergency
cause Reggie Noble's known like burglary
I get hot busted when I dip my nuggets
Hey, if it take a million niggaz to stop it just like Chuck did
Cause we run around Newark with the nine cock
Keep it heated for the brothers that's not off my block
And if ya don't know the flavor, be a tough guy and enter
So go show you more nigga events than Jacob Jaffrey center
I'm genuine, to the rhyme, get your canines
Cops that got the hot glock stocked for when it's playtime
I rock around the Robin TWEET TWEET on the calendar
Cause you couldn't pull my number if your class major was Algebra
I make bitches moan to my Stallone without Sylvester
Cause I'm more deadlier than a whole school system of investors
So check us, I always smoke mad blunts before breakfast
Cause I, Get Around like 2Pac with Poetic in my Justic
Hold tight, hold tight, everybody hold tight
I'm sooper like my man cat, cause I keep my styles jam packed
I wrreerawwwowww like Anthrax, split my pants like Bill Bixby
You could tell the tracks was fat from the work of my MP-60
I smoke the chronic that's why my sinus always fucked up
Them bones, them bones, them bones will have you fucked up
I blaze blunts with my nigga Mellow, yo say hello
(Yo whattup dogg?)
Really, now pass the second blunt to Quilly
Now sit your big ass down cuz I don't know about this rap stuff
There wasn't rap when I was pickin cotton, sayin massa
Y'all y'all whippersnappers, with the caps on backwards
Man, y'all fuck around with Quilly I kick a bone out yo' ass quick
Watch out now, I ain't bullshittin
I representin the oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-G's from forty-three goddamnit
And if you keep on with that dirty mistreatin
I'm gonna whoop your ass, til your heart stop beating
And yo, chronic bubonic the funky bionic
you find it I'll have to rewind it where minds are blinded
Time 4 Sum Aksion so time to find it
I smoked out like a cookout, look out my dick's out
That was last album when I was bouncin on trains like Malcolm
I was hiiiiigh, I thought I wouldn't survive
That's why I quit my nine to five and got live
Because this hip-to-the-hop shit fills my pockets
And I'm Audi for ninety-four because I already got my props
Hoes, hoes, and more hoes...
. . .
|
|
[basically] (24X)
Whoo, hahh... ohhahh, wooooh
Aww shit!!
Hey dudes my interludes more fatter than most niggaz LP's
So don't sell me to stale cheese
I'm more nicer than Little Red Robin Hood's grandmama
puffin on ganja, sippin on a, Cherry Bianca
My grand finale's like an alley when it's rowdy
kick more bars than the penile G
And let my nine clap loudly
Click click, bee-yow, bang, booyaka!!
What am I do to ya? It's somethin new to ya
Like screwin ya, all over my studi-ah
Ride on my MP-60 and let the S-950 squeeze your titties
That quickly I hooked you, now fix me with your lips
B...otch, unloosen my belt thinkin to grab the crotch
But before you do move my glock before it shoot my cock
And see basically them trick bitches get no dap (word)
And see basically Redman album is no joke (word)
And see basically I don't get caught up at my label (word)
Cause I kill when they fuck with food on my dinner table (word)
I drop a punchline at lunchtime
cause I'm a Close Encounter of the None Kind
with dumb rhymes
I battle allay'all at one time
So fuck all you fools out there with the large vocabulary
in your sentence, I don't need that shit to pay my rent with, huh
And to the nosey snake-ass hoes I ask you
Why you be acting all fly
when your monkey-ass work at fast food?
And why is it everytime that a multiplatinum artist
always use the underground to make a comeback?
Is it fair to the hardcore niggaz that rap?
That don't give a fuck about the radio
plus the next bitch at that?
And being hardcore and mad about wearing high-tech boots
and black skelly hats?
And making fake-ass frowns because your best buddy packs?
Think about it
Sip on a chocolate thai, and let your brain fall out of focus
This is another episode, coming live from the Funkadelic man himself
Yeah
Ahhh
Huh
. . .
|
|
(radio crackles as it's tuned)
".. possibly a lot of rain this afternoon, with thunderstorms.
Highs in the mid 80's, and lows about 75 degrees.
It's 11:30 A.M. on WFDS, +We're From the DarkSide+ radio.
This is Dave Rock'n'Reel, as we take a caller.
Caller, you're on the air."
[Roz]
Yeah yeah yeah! This is Roz from Newark.
And I wanna hear that song by Redman, "Can't Wait."
That song the BOMB yo!
"You got it. Comin from the DarkSide radio, this is _Can't Wait_."
[Redman]
Whooooooo! Yo yo yo, comin to you live
smokin mad Phillies with my niggaz from the Hooterville section
And all my niggaz from the (?) section, word is bond
Somebody said Jamaica Queens in this motherfucker
I don't give a fuck! We gon' set it off like this
Jersey in the fuckin hid-ouse, (?)
[Verse One]
I'm like RRRAHHH RRRAHHHH, like I had cerebral palsy
My flows be's wet like all you girls drawers be
Crack the Phils, spread the buddha then the hidash
Roll it up and then ask, who chipped in for the ten bag?
Et cetera, I roll my blunts with two textures
Pick up fifty bags and then I smoke all the extras
It's the truth, like vodk' one-eighty proof
Don't drop your drawers, I'll fuck through your daisy dukes (true!)
Put your fingers up in the air if you're high (hiiigh)
I walk by (byyyy) so eff a drive (byyyy)
I swing a (?) batting average as half as
good as Reggie Jackson's that's why you talk backwards
Enough; chumps be on some Bogart shit like Humphrey
You couldn't beat me if you ran with +21 Jump Street+
Or +90210+, fuck it yo
In the movies I'm the nigga puffin buddha in the back row
[Chorus: Repeat 8X]
I can't wait to get it on
[Verse Two]
I'm just a smokey boy, I'm from the +Land of the Lost+
You can't see me - like Charlie Angels' boss; I'm often
coolin 'round the blid-docks, I rock round the clid-dock
My glid-dock cocked, from here to 16th and Len-nox
Ask Roger Thomas if I'm gettin scopic
I was milk like two tits, now I'm butter like Blue Bonnet
Now who got the funk? (We got the funk!)
Ay ay aiyyo well I got the weed! (We got the blunts!)
I never sniffed; I used to puff woolies in a jam
Back in eighty-eight, when it was twenties to the gram
Bizzail, you couldn't feel me in braille, hell
I write my names on walls in smoke spots when I'm buyin L
the fly guy with the Force like Luke Sky'
Down for a (??) bitch if you're fly
The Funkadelic, been rockin mics since the fourth grade
I Terminate like X and I +Terminate" like Schwarzeneg'
Dum-de-dum, rock like Buju Banton
Soup like won ton, funk by the tons, to rumps
PLEASE! My whole crew is makin cheese
Tonight's the night baby, so suck up on these - and it's on
[Chorus]
[Verse Three]
I said I, catch the A-train, to the left
Smoke the choc', I set shit off like Boba Fett
Big up to all my niggaz in the housin projects
I'm runnin up in ya continue to split your guts
GRAB THE RAIL, if you get scared of my lines when I rock well
Got Whit's like Pernell, shit's the bomb like Ak'nel
Rickety rocket, mind deep as the Loch Ness
Waste niggaz like toxic, wet like galoshes
Can I handle my biz? (Yes you can!)
I cause +Chaos+, and bring a lot of +Def+ to +Jams+
Yes I can; now act stupid I'll pop the trunk
Ka-KLUNK, now give me a ba-bump, BA-BUMP
Oooh cool, smooth like two blue suede shoes
Y'all faggots slept on my Hoffman(?) and Kools
Word to Dan Tan Pillow and Cool B
Switchin speeds like Bruce Lee ridin up Fuji in a movie
I drop it on the one, fuck the two-three
Funky like a box of coochies on loose leaf
Yo yo, I said..
Switchin up speeds, like Bruce Lee, ridin up Fuji, in a movie
Heh, I be sayin some shit!
Now.. if you didn't get it..
Laugh now.. and then figure the shit out when you get home!
. . .
|
|
The hype's got me, I knock em out the box then out socks
Cause winicumuhround, niggaz skate like the rocks
My block...'s hot, so gimme all you got
When I'm done rockin, I leave you all doin the Bus Stop
My format spins wheels like Pat Sajak
I rub niggaz out like Ajax now hit the playback
Rrrwwhwoaah, look out, roast em like cookouts
I'm smoked out, all you MC's, pull your books out
Word is bond it's on I get at Dawn like Marvin Gaye
Starvin since the days of Kindergarten
When I dye my ashes, flip my coffin backwards
Blow shit up like the 4th of July, with half sticks
And on and on, to the break of Rae-Dawn Chong
I'm Killin You Softly with this song, with this bomb
I'm like the Bronx, cuz I Boogie Down
I'm representin Jersey motherfucker, winicumuhround
Winicumuhround, homeboy watch yo nugget
(Aiyyo-yo-yo Redman, yo that was last album) Aiyyo fuck it, bust it
The top, notch, look over your sess spots
Get dumb like a whole bag of jumps with red tops
Burn more steam than carpet cleaners
I'm meaner then I'm iller than OJ, catchin a misdemeanor
Boom-bash I set it off (right right)
I shot up your lights while you caught up in the heights
My lyrics starvin, my crew runs like the mob and
The funk butter cup, cause I'm a bastard at robbin
I shake the valleys over Cali when I'm spliffed up
Rock a fifth up, that measure nine point oh on the Erichter
Are you tuned in to my tunes it's boom
Y'all niggaz couldn't see me if y'all had zoom
I'm accurate like Acura, my style's ninety years maximum
Fuel-injected like a Maxima, wheni'muharound motherfucker
The way I get wreck y'all niggaz call it mic check
I'm vexed and if I got an itchy finger like Bernard Geotz
With a pad and a pen I blend funky images
That leave your girl hemmoragin for about two million and
three years move along there's nothing to see here
If I wasn't nice motherfucker I wouldn't be here
Yeah yeah put metaphors inside a bracket
Def Squad's in the house AND MOTHERFUCKER WE CAN BACK IT
Come test your skills for real with a bomb bang boom bang
The sound makes your brains wet
with The Color Purple on a freight train
The devil's the conductor
Then take a trip to the darkside motherfuckers
My funky pattern takes interludes around Saturn
I'm more diesel than evil meant evil like Sebastian
Don't try this at home kids, I zone with ET's
And other alien type of MC's
So throw your shit up in the sky, cause Redman's about to get live
Like one-two-five
I smoke High Times magazines when I lounge
And broken mics and cords is left, winicumuhround motherfucker
. . .
|
|
Intro:
Eeeyeahh
Wuditlooklike, to all you trick bitches
and you punk ass niggaz out there
I'm talkin to you live from WFDS
We're From the DarkSide radio
It's about two thousand degrees down this motherfucker
But the funk just don't stop
As we take y'all fat roly-poly asses on another journey
To the darkside...
Verse One:
Wuditlooklike? When I wipe off my sweat
Verbally I'm Untouchable like Elliot Ness
To the best of my ability I rock any facility
And fuck the yellow cabs I smoke buddha out deliveries
I'm just as high as the fuckin friendly skies
When I'm, open, you can't even see my chinky eyes
Cause the buddha I smoke, is no joke, when I'm loc'ed
Then I wet it, then you be like -- that shit be soaked!!
I'm saggin my.... Karl Kani...
and Two Black Guys when I get busy like the L.I.
Well I, swing it back and forth like a leaf
Without traffic I flow like the B.Q.E.
But I can pass niggaz straight out of first-class
Then leave em huffin and puffin like first day at Lemans class
PPP, got the glocks and techs
And Def Squad always got some fly shit on deck
Chorus: repeat 4X
I said wuditlooklike (wuditlooklike)
Wuditlooklike (wuditlooklike)
Verse Two:
A-hem...
The Funk Doctor Spock blow the watt through your box
I come hotter than Treach, you bet about callin the cops
Because (this type of funk you don't hear on the regular)
Rock six seven eight nine ten (to eleven ta)
Knew my style got more powers than Cocoon
Zoom your focus, I drop the mic and leave it smokin
When I'm vexed, my concepts Wreck like Effect
Verbal communications blow to the next ep
I'm robbin your brains with antilogical, phenomical
Suicidal with lethal type funk spread your nodules
Straight up the weight up plus I max like a Beta
Boy I fuck your head up like a blunt that's laced up
The boogie verbalist, vocalist
I get open with, puttin scannings on the fake soloist
My style reachin down like Ike, switch up like dykes and
You'll be tellin your psychologist wuditlooklike
Chorus
Verse Three:
Wuditlooklike suckers, punk motherfuckers
Bitches be actin funny, don't wanna show me no love cuz
They think I'm crazy and like mentally sick
Ahhh, give em the dick then they quiver like fish, then I
Smoke a pound of herb a day, and yo
Some bitches say, I'm the Mack like Maceo
I don't be that I just beez the funk disease
that leave MC's, recognizing like Sam Sneed
The funkindominal, I bring drama to any rendezvous
Rock three-sixty-five, twenty-four, Monday through
That other shit, makes them other ship, flip
funk ridiculous, inconspicous with lyrics
A-uhhm, oh-seven-one-oh-three's where I from
Been gettin dumb, every since Harlem World used to jump
And that's for all them hardrock niggaz that's comin in flocks
I bust off the glock for the hood and the block
Chorus
. . .
|
|
Intro:
Yo, this blunt is for all the niggaz that was in the
holdin pen with me in central booking
Welcome to the system
[Ha ha ha haaaa! Yeahhh! Motherfuckers!
Coming to you live from Newark, New Jersey]
[Hey Redman would you roll that blunt and get me fucked up]
Fucked up [all night] all night
[Hey Redman would you roll that blunt and get me fucked up]
Fucked up [all night] all night
[Yeah! Coming to you live, straight out of Jersey, motherfucker]
Verse One:
Rock on, rock on, yo here comes that Funkadelic
I come wtter than Purple Rain, I bust brains, the funk Doctor
Spock, got the glock, now I'm smokin out your sess spot
I rock from here to Bedstuy, I hit the spot like XY
Who is that nigga that's comin six billion feet
I roll my funk and find tone even smoke up blues with 18th Street
I cut massively with sneaky styles like Dick Dastardly
Look at the letter-coated afro like my man Shaft would be
The new vroom, crisp like chicken and Chinese food
I'm just like The Whispers here to put you in the mood
[Jumpin Jersey] Yeah you heard me, got more family than the Partridge
Roll the red carpet for Red from here to corner markey
You're tryin me, I'm a menace of society, right
[Yo yo they killed your style] Yo yo, I ain't lettin shit ride
Droppin the verbs and nouns, antonyms and homonyms
Covering my dick, plus I'm diesel like all of them
Chorus: Repeat 2X
Rock rock on, you gotta rock rock on [somebody, help
meeeeee!] Rock rock on, you gotta rock rock on
[You gotta rock on] Rock rock on, you gotta rock rock on
Rock rock on, you gotta rock rock on
Verse Two:
My momma used to tell me turn that shit the fuck off
So I had to play like Foxy and get off [get off]
My shit was thick I bought a clip then cocked my own grip at honeydips
Cause moms made enough loot just to pay the bills with, beeitch
Selling bags from uptowwwwn
Me and Lester put our money together now we got the block locked down
31 to local A-Train's, Hoboken
I took the back way, New Jersey transit cops were open
I'm hopin, that they don't go inside my boots
Cause we had everything, from jewelry to thai-one suits
And ClienTEL, I'm drinkin Ballentine L in hell
So Redman rock well before our record sell
Then my moms crib was jacked by the jealous
[And if ya ain't come back] Is what the base-head used to tell us
[Yo fellaz!] Our whole scheme sinkin like boats
Cause Les mixed biz with pleasure when we shoulda stuck to lactose
But every good thing comes to a end
With no ends, on the block, sellin weed again
My moms tried to make me go to school, I just didn't listen
Got locked up, now I'm all in the system, listen
Chorus
Verse Three:
Whassup! I tickle your putty-cars with my loonie raps
on groovy tracks, I make new jacks catch convulsions like groupie acts
From my city I spread it all like Jiffy
It's a mystery, my spliff be live like 145th be
I mold like clay, and roll dice just like Andrew
I stay strapped just like bamboo, my crewsa got mad handle
Whatever, the weather be, I got mental telepathy
So throw your bombest rapper and watch me intercept MC's
I keep my car underground just like the Lords
Even though I'm known, like all the four wheels on the course
So let me pull up to your bumper like Grace Jones
Cause my shit be WAY off the hook like pay phonesssahh! *dial tone*
. . .
|
|
[hard enough that I can chew a whole bag of rocks]
Hyah! Attention to all you punk motherfuckers out there
(uh-huh uh-huh, check it out, check it out)
Funky Noble Productions represent for the nine-four and nine-five area
Reggie Noble and Rockwilder in the house for the nizzow
If you don't know you might as well close your biz out
(To my peeps in Queens)
Yeah, ohh shit, yo, it's a bird
(Nah I thought that shit was a fuckin plane dude)
Nah nah nah, it's Soop, Soop, Soop-a-man
[It's on!]
Hah
Verse One: Redman
Well it's the Soopaman Lovah in your motherfuckin town
Get down go round and round like shocks on your G-spot
Honeydip, now all of y'all up in that funny shit
But I ain't switched, still a honeydip is a honeybitch
in the mix! So bitches be lookin fly and I'll run in em
With they toes and nails done, hair wrapped up with pins in em
Fifty-four eleven Reebox bitch which you need not
to do is get fly, cause where I'm from, bitches get speed knots
Slow your monkey ass down and hold your horses
Don't wanna know your name don't wanna know none of your sources
Just fix me, with a quickie, I swear more Lake's than Ricki
So bad I use my X-Ray vision to give y'all clits a hickie
And plus the weed I puff is from the planet of Cheech and Chong
Where the earth is chronic, and How To Roll a Blunt is the theme song
Oooh you makin me horny! Well uhh, let me wipe that wetness for ya
Slurped and burped, got that bitch more open than my door do
Let's take a journey up in the stars where I live at
Where I fuck Jane, Judy Jetson, and that robot bitch-ah
Grab onto the cape and uhh... I said before I took her
don't choke me!
And it's up up and away I took the hooker
And it's on
Verse Two: Redman
We landed on my planet, we smoked out like a fuck up
Bought a dime from Jabba the Hut and some uncut for the hooker
She said, "I don't sniff blow I just smoke weed to get me horny.
So I'm nothin like that bitch in your last Soopaman Lovah story."
You go girl! But I didn't believe her, had to make sure
Where you from, the projects? "Yeahhhh, but I'm single.
You needed a quickie and I'm just that bitch to break you off, shit
my pussy's so good, it tickle my legs when I walk!"
Oh really, just show me a couple of ways how you'll thrill me
She lifted up her dress and the whole area got chilly
"So what you think of that?" I threw that bitch back on my back
Shit I live ten miles away, but I made it fo' seconds flat
I lived in the same building with Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk
Got R2D2 and Mork from Ork puttin in work
See I got the block sewn "Oooh baby let's get it on!"
About time, I opened the door she had her ass and tits showin
She rushed me to the room and stripped me out of my attire
She tied me to the bedposts then she lit the room on fire
She took out a scarf wrapped it around my eyes till I was blind
But with my X-Ray vision I saw the icepick from behind
So I broke out the ropes, smacked the hoe, then suplexed her
She pulled out a Tec and wet my chest with the S1's
"Oh shit I'm shot!" There was blood all over my finger!
I think I left my other bulletproof suit in the cleaner
She gave a whistle, they came in crews, word is bond
It was a bunch of Martian bitches with bodysuits and Platforms
"Damn, I gotta think of a plan, whatamIdo?
Did Superman have a gun?" Nah, but the Soopaman Lovah do!
So I pulled out the fo'-fifth, left the bitches open
Had another clip in case some mo' bitches want mo' shit
And I saw that trick Bewitched flying on her broomstick
Pa-dow! Shot her down because I leave no witness
Job well done I cleaned myself in a hurry
Oops! Gotta catch this blunt session
With I Dream of Jeannie and Kieth Murray
Aiyyyo-yo-yo Keith aiyyo what's up?
Aiyyo
. . .
|
|
Intro: Dr. Trevis, Hurricane G, Redman
Hahahahahahaaaaa
[KRS] Watch out!
Geyeeah! As we take a journey to the darkside
[KRS] Watch out!
from Hell and beyond, the knotty-headed nigga era has triumphed
[KRS] Watch out!
a new ever! If you don't know, your bitch ass better
[KRS] Watch out!
axe somebody! Shoot em up!
[Glo] The Hurricane G is live and in color
[KRS] Watch out!
[Glo] We run you motherfuckers!
[Red] The Funk Doctor Spock coming live and in color
[KRS] Watch out!
[Red] We run you motherfuckers!
[R+G] Puffin mad spliffs, so fuck a bitch
and a nigga, cause niggaz, and bitches ain't shit!
Hahahahahahaaaa! Dr. Trevis
[KRS] Watch out!
is in the motherfuckin house
With a couple of sick patients for your bitch ass
[KRS] Watch out!
Yeahhh!
Verse One: Hurricane G, Redman
The Hurricane G is the ultimate funk, pop the trunk
(Hoo-hah!! Wild like Shaolin monks)
Representin, comin out of Brooklyn, Flatbush
you wuss, you can't push push in the bush
Well uh, let's take a journey to hell and beyond
Where the bomb grows on palms, and bags labelled Cheech and Chong
The Jimi Hendrix of rap, I got an afro and
bandanna, then I rock jams like Santana
I move MC's like niggaz move keys uptown
Red and Hurricane G, SO HOW YOU LIKE US NOW?!!?!
Chorus: repeat 4X
[KRS] Watch out! We run New York
Yeah
Verse Two: Hurricane G
(Hurricane G hit em one time)
From the Brook, taught how to trick by the real gangsta crooks
So I holds back what you took!
I take my funk and my religion serious
Sanctify y'all and leave y'all house niggaz delirious
(hahahahaa) cause I'm furious!
How dare you motherFUCKERS, forget about the ultimate
funk, BITTTTTCH nigga!
I got your wicked witch with a switch
Motherfucker, fuck you and your crew!
So what nigga, is it you wanna do?
In ninety-fo' I kick the wicked for the bitches
For the real trick deez who can dig it
Cause after pop thought all that, Hurricane stay fat
Word to mom, big dick boricuas in the back
The queen of the East coast, funk gangsta pack buddha
on the rhyme since eighty-nine
It's all in your mind, but what's yours is mine
Your dough and your hoes Bump N Grind to my rhymes
Now! It ain't a nigga who could hang
or pop yang, about a motherfuckin th-a-a-a-ang
And uh, fuck any bitch who can't hang
I'm representin bitches universal!
It go, one for the biz, on the bizness
Which y'all blesses with God's blessings, do you see?
Hurricane and Redman original steel
Latin Queens in the house!!
So nigga swing it over here on these big fat tits!!
(Titties, hahahahahaa)
Verse Three: Redman
The Funk Doctor Spock, blast up on your block
I'm walkin through the sewer with manure on my socks
Your style, I freaked it when I was a child
So you talkin that baby talk like, Who's Talkin Now?
Verbally I crush, brains erupt
Blow your focus, like you sniffin angel dust
Run of the mill I'm not, watch me kill a cock-sucker
And cause ruckus, like them L.O.D. motherfuckers
Every verse every word I preach
Represents the East, long as the human eyes can see
Gimme that funk funk funk funk funk funk funk funk beat!
I light a blunt for niggaz up in Sing-Sing
I do it to death, style is funk that's fresh
Remove your vest, you just won the wet t-shirt contest
And I'm hotter, than the Globetrotters in the Bahamas
I got a pair of pajamas made out of ganjah and almonds and I'm as
eager, as nigga wantin my shit to dub
Cause my shit be BANGIN like the Crips and Bloods
Troop, I flew the coop like Big Bird in Timb boots
I Skywalk the planet like my code name was Luke
From the darkside, I'm from the darkside Pah
I'm Above the Law like Steven Segall
Motherfucker!!
Outro: Dr. Trevis
[KRS] Watch out!
Hahahaha, we take you to the darkside
Come travel
[KRS] Watch out!
on our metaphoric futuristic type shit
As we blow your brains like spliffs
[KRS] Watch out!
Dr. Trevis is outta here
For the nine-fo' you stank... bitch
[KRS] Watch out!
Yeahh
[KRS] Watch out!
. . .
|
|
Yo echoes
weird hearbeat like sounds
[I can hear myself... echoes]
maniacal laughter
bell rings, slowly, then faster, then slows again
On the behalf of the knotty-headed nigga
and the Def Squad force
We'd like to thank you for purchasin the new Redman tape
And hope you show the same love for us next go 'round
bell rings
short, phat beat is loope
static
. . .
|
|
Who wanna have a motherfuckin orgy?
Word is bond, word is me
Smokin mad blunts, and all the fronts and
Check it out, whatcha want and
Go on with slang, well get to bang, rockin my thang
Funkadelic, hit you with irrelevant, heyyyy
Micraphone check, I walk around the street with black Tecs and knapsacks
I'm known for smokin ass-cracks til I get ass flashbacks
So all my niggaz if you're fuckin damage let me hear ya you can
*bo bo bo bo bo bo bo* now did you catch a victim? HELL NO
Come back in to fatten to funky tracks
Blast a motherfucker until you're peekin through his back
Cause my brain is twisted, funky realistic on the ill shit
I rock it til, bitches start givin up that punany
Pajamies, up the coochie, pass the clit, pass the loose shit
Then BOO-YAA, I gave you another shot of the good shit
Don't believe me why your pussy breathin hard enough to pinch
the clitoris, dangle it from my cock I don't feel shit
So check me the original Joe Pesky freak the sexy
I got more Gadgets than the Inspector, go-go jet-skis
Then swoop through your troops knock the boots on your cutes
Grab you for your loot, wrap my fuckin chain around your tooth
Cause, that's the way it goes when Tonight's Da Nite
The music feelin Funkadelic and the mood is right
I stick the nine between your eyes and blast you outta sight
Cause that's the way the knotty-headed nigga, rollin right
Blunts by the boxes, I smuggle the chocolate thai to get me high when
I ran through more niggaz, than any kid that was adopted
Plus an ostrich couldn't swallow my cock, quick cause it's stopped which
makes the Soopaman Luva get stockings by the flocks bitch, hrrrahhh
So on and on and let me kick the rab
That light skinned brother with mad shaft up your fuckin ass
You wanna see me get cool, the original rude bwoy, fuck with the new toys
Like pistols, I dismiss crews, so order some new boys
Blast the funky buddha's lockin ash up in my body
For Fozzy Patsi I bring Sad Days to niggaz constant...
..ly! Freak Funkadelic phrases cause I'm true school
I'm fuckin Madonna down to Smurfette down one down to M'bufu
Funks formatic, the fat shit, the wicked basket from caskets
Plus I'm rollin blunts with niggaz ashes
Smoke on the choke, light a toke until it's proper
I deserve an Oscar for pullin glocks out niggaz mouths cuz
I kill like that, plus I roll like that
I'm that guy with cerebral-palsy even Bo knows that
BUT FUCK THAT, we drop the new runner to get some ganja
Goin Uptown, we check Benny Red out, he pulls the smack out
Then roll up the bills-nilz, or better yet the pute
the loo-pay, rank near my nost to rock the block
Hittin niggaz upside the head with rocks in socks, glock on cock
Back, trigger-hap, P P P rockin that unity
Motherfucker! Yeah yeah motherfuckers, it's on it's on it's on
Throw your hands in the air, and wave em like you just don't care
And if you haven't been fucked, by the Soopaman Luva
Let me hear you say, oh yeahhyeah!
Oh yeahhyeah! Funkadelic, hit you with the irrelevant
facts and max, and on and on my crew pull gats
Flick slaps em back, come on and fuckin up tracks
Kick the mad wicked, bricks to stick it
Come on and, I get Wilson like Pickett then stick it
She wanna check me when I'm lickin your ass
And lickin ya down to your clitoris
Do you remember this, bitch, I know you're kinda hearin this
Style that I'm kickin, yes I'm mad wicked
Funkadelic, runs the mad train up your anus!
Baby, cause I'm famous!
Nope, I didn't mean that
The mean fat black fat tracks and old dreams at
I'm all teen strapped, sports a bean hat
Want to rhyme to be down, but homey ain't gonna bean that
. . .
|
|