Lyrics:
to the wow, yippie yo yippie yay
It's the Ed Lover with my OWN Dr dre
Special shout out, to the D-O double-G
They can't tame ya so they framed
Ya for a 187 G
gon' put you up on game
We got homies who sell straps
Homies who sell crack
Homies who sell the bomb chronic sacks and fat dubs
Givin'
Brooklyn everyday like Mos Def
It's in my bio nigga go check
It's either run the city with Funk Flex or take the whole world by the fucking neck
Hit shawty
the cosmic storm
Who? Scrolls to lyrics to bust
I roll 'em up with the papyrus, funk sealed, in God we trust
I laid it down from circumference to dry space
at
All right Ma, I checked out all my niggas then we jetted
With fifty balls a piece brought a piece for unleaded
Smokin' blunts forty ouncin', G and P
to me
Just think, I used to have to flip cabbage
And now I ride in a nine-seven whip Caddy
Meal game, they call me by my stage name
Hella G's when I spit
is fat and all that
Pack smack, jaw crack, after that
Can I get my balls back?
Nigga don't front, just pass the blunt
I freak the funk for the trunks
booty shake music in your trunk
As long as there's that "tic tic" followed by that bump
I'm down to stick a ho if she got a G-string
'Cause the niggas
booty shake music in your trunk
As long as there's that "tic tic" followed by that bump
I'm down to stick a ho if she got a G-string
'Cause the niggas
captivated by the funky sounds
Now back up back up 'cause this shorty here's not loco
'Cause I be's the one with them hellafied vocals
The kids from New
Cedar Elm
West side trees sprayin' all the fleas
That's from the three and four hundred block P-Funk riders
So niggaz watch yo' ass at that center divider
Intoxicated and I'm faded by you honey, why
We finally made it, got to lovin' money, seeds and shine
They wanna hate it, try to break it but it's
Intoxicated and I'm faded by you honey, why
We finally made it, got to lovin' money, seeds and shine
They wanna hate it, try to break it but it's
[Puff Daddy]
Oh shit (what's that man)
I don't know kid, I think it's a party going on
Oh it's the remix
Check it, yeah muthafuckas
What we about
Love $hort
We be takin shit in '94
In the deuce we ain't bullshittin
I want it all
I want your jewelry, your motherfuckin car
I want your whole safe
the dick, make your kidneys shift
Here we go, here we go, but I'm not Domino
I got the funk flow to make your drawers drop slow
So recognize the dick size in
hearin' you
(We on fire tonight, and the place is lookin' steamy)
(As we proceed)
(We on fire tonight, and the place is lookin' steamy)
So take heed
with America's #1 DJ, Funkmaster Flex
In collaboration with America's, pardon me, #1 independent rap label, Dipset
And right now I'm accompanied by
you a factor, but can't put them facts out
Got em calling quits, guess we sponsored by tap out
Patrolling through the hood every night we doing a check
never
Post the notes of exotics
Take you back to the tropics
'Cuz you led on a tour by the three black prophets
We rock this
Slap you wit' the mo
never
Post the notes of exotics
Take you back to the tropics
'Cuz you led on a tour by the three black prophets
We rock this
Slap you wit' the mo
Ladies and gentlemen
Playas and hustlas
Riders and punks
We came to make it happen
Step the game up
Get y'all funk'd up aight?
It's an All Stars Game
But nowadays, you know I'm snappin', motherfucker
The Game told me we was just some rappin' motherfuckers
Word to Compton, all the way
the girls'll pass through
That Suave Dawg game, and it's more than a few
The G-shorts and the tank tops'll do
With they hands on they boo - you know how we do
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