Lyrics:
mobbed deep hate me now Steve Stoute
Had my music so loud I was So So Def
Replaying Fugee La that's word to Wyclef
Pras and L Hill If I got to keep it
like it's that time of the month
Are you bleeding? Can't think about sex?
Irritated by your Kotex?
We don't need to kiss, we don't have to fuck
I'll
and males
Both headed all for the disco
The DJ plays your favourite blasts
Takes you back to the past, music's magic, poof
Bump, bump, bump, get bump
reports world news as
They report about me, we're in trouble
Are you saying that
No, wait, let me finish have you thought of
The chance I'm taking by
him
There goes the guy with the funky sound
The Beastie Boys you know we come to get down
Because I've got the flow where I grab my dick
And say oh
Chea
Uhn
Y'all already know
I like the sound of music
Especially the one's that vibing
I like to keep my music ace
I like the speakers bumping
I
the steerin' wheel
I'm only runnin' with real
I got my own paper, I can't sign a deal
Mansion in Beverly Hills
I run up that check, give a fuck how you feel
y'all)
Das EFX, EPMD, and Ice Cube (hey y'all, hey y'all)
House of Pain, funky blunted ass white dudes (hey y'all, hey y'all)
Cypress Hill, yeah,
about the days of old
With that old time rock 'n' roll
Won't go to hear them play a tango
I'd rather hear some blues or funky soul
There's only one sure
rolling weed up in traffic
Nasty Nas was the prophet, Tupac the savior
Mob deep and Geto boys taught me how to get paper
I get my style from the Funky
Castle-D boy, he's down with us
D.J. Red Alert, he's down with us
Robocop boy, he's down with us
Makin' funky music is a must
I'm number one.
People
That's you now, ciao, seems that life is great now
See me lose focus, as I sing to you loud
I can't, no, I won't hush
I'll say the words that make you
ink conserving that's the shit that's the shit
Eyeballs is like red as hell these bitches better recognise
Don't play with the motherfucking funky don't
Say down where I'm born in no white boy's never done that dance
They play their music, they wear their funky underpants
They wear that lipstick
Just take those old records off the shelf
I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself
Today's music ain't got the same soul
I like that old time rock 'n'
weight
Then give it to them white boys that's upstate
You flipping cakes
If it ain't with frosting then get out the way
This ain't for play you can never
I used to hit the booth with my line kicking
If I hit the other side
that's fried chicken
Gotta get him by himself
They won’t grind with him
Till
For that white powder
A deuce deuce will leave little holes
In your top like salt shaker
Then I'll finish it off with a big cap
On your head like a park
the struggle man
We love Tambo
Tambo was a unifier
Tambo was a peace maker
He loved music man
And we must honor him for that
I'm doing this record man
But
the microphone doctor
One wrecks, the other destroys
And if you think that you're ready to mess (kill the noise)
We don't play when it's time to slay
I take a cut
and PMD is like the funky fresh couple
I fight fire with fire, that's why most retired
And when we needed a piss boy, you was hired
Cause you was
Calis all that thats why im camping
Out here for right now
Because the moneys goodplus i get to kick
It with the boys in the hood
Holly wood remind
Just take those old records off the shelf
I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself
Today's music ain't got the same soul
I like that old time rock 'n'
the Barbarian, if you talk loud, I'll play librarian
Cause see I want it quiet in here
I Mark a Markyiana a bunch of funky Uncle Thomas's
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