Lyrics:
Skillz and this be the Nod Factor
After Mc's smoke me take a toke
I'll fuck your career like the cast on different Strokes
No joke..I see airlines
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
hooray for N-E-be , no that's not me,
Oh, 'cause I'm in the Cherokee, cruisin with Warren G
Goin to pick up Jah Skill and the Twinz
Five footin till
Hva vil de ha mayne? Mer gangsta shit
Hva kan jeg gi dem? Mer gangsta shit
You can tell by the way that he walks
By the way that he talks this mayne
the belts to match
Oh yes it's Bun B, but no applause
Please, unlock your jaws just unbutton em
Unzip em squeeze out and you got no flaws
You get your cross
niggas hear their final tick
but that don't mean my minds sick
just cause I'm motivated by a lot of cheese
when trees by the p's
and fuckin fine fee's
niggas hear their final tick
but that don't mean my minds sick
just cause I'm motivated by a lot of cheese
when trees by the p's
and fuckin fine fee's
There wasn't anyway you can go
Down here in Florida mississippi
And you got your own things
And you got your soul brothers
And the Funk Brothers
you know my funk was all up in ya
Deep in ya creep when you walk, I dig that
Split your wig back, now grab the bedpost
Move in real close, I feel
whole chest and
In combat if they fat I'll skinny em
Six times the terror pass the Era to Millineum
G-Funk, bumpin in ya trunk
Call me booshe nigga,
fifty deep
But they be fuckin' cowards when they by they selves
You know who I'm talkin' about
(You know who I'm talkin' about)
That's right, you
really like it raw
In the closet like the rider type of whore
By the shore, I pulled a trick on her
But I'm collect any fix when I put the dick on her
really like it raw
In the closet like the rider type of whore
By the shore, I pulled a trick on her
But I'm collect any fix when I put the dick on her
the Don P
Beep, that's me that drop the funk beat, uh uh
Me and Lil' Travis stun'n hard off 'less my daddy grab it
I got a Roley on my wrist with 10 karats
a nigga on the ground
Searched my car real good I know you know what they found
I had the trunk, full of that junk
X-Rated lyrics, laced with the funk
be controlling
My heart and pride
Can't fake the funk
I be flexin' with my silence uh
Potato on the barrel
Ain't no hearing me
Known to the public
Stay
the heat man
Dig it the MOB baby
I'm so hurt!
Fa sheezy
Fa sheez
I fold the cash then I
Hit away
Jus' a thug fo' the money, no love
Hit 'em up wit'
stepping at the function
Keith Lawrence is a weapon of mass destruction
Brixton DJ and he played the funk, son
A local hero yo, but now he ain't unsung
younger brothers what it is to be a man
By tearing up the party when the mic is in my hand
This is what you call a winter/spring/summer jam
Fall into
gettin' busy down in N-O
Gangsta's, get respect from me
And all you other niggaz gettin' checked by me
That's on the C, DPG will never break up
There's
Oh the pain I ain't seen the sun since I don't know when
The freaks come out at nine and it's twenty to ten
What's this funk that you call junk?
suit, no tie
Niggas ain't gonna be able to just get by no mo'
You leavin' the hotel 254
Today was good to me, I went to the Goodwill
With the ten
Uh, yeah,
Finna run it back,
A couple times,
Looping, scratch the record
Grooves in mine
Funk won't die, like nappy headed rhymes
Funk won't die like
flare like mine I'm always buzzin' often stingin' and
Fool you can't suppress no rest smoked out and drinkin'
It's a day by day pure weed with no
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