Lyrics:
pasaló
Bitches i don't really know
So i'mma tell a bitch fuck off
We too funky for this lil hoes
We already know that
Pa esta pullup
Y Pa los new kids
I used to know a kid, a real cool cat
Ended up a fuckin’ junkie in a funky backpack
Fucked up sweatsuit that didn’t even match
Leader of the Dirty
wise
To cross or raise ya hand to the don
Got soldiers to
Leave ya block in a coma
With a carcass aroma
That's funky enough
And if he lucky get snuffed
one can ever hurt me
Because I'm ill (like what)
Like herpies
And I really don't give a damn who you are
Mr.Funky man all hail I'm da funkular
Valentine's Day
Get his daddy a new Porsche
Just for his pops to say he ain't want the sport
Team over money, money over sport
All the cool kids in high
The kid heard the word up in Brooklyn.
It was his second year of medical school.
He went and stashed some jeans into his guitar case,
His father
mad spots, many crews got dropped
While I was gettin props niggaz was dealin on the block
Stayin in crib on the weekends was Marley Marl
was freakin
from the ATL
In our new block, choppers on the rooftop
Flip a nigga like he was a NBA mascot
Strip a nigga from his Wade
Cap to his two socks
Got it from
Chorus:
(Mixx cuts "Get Loose Now" from "It Takes Two")
Verse 1: Fresh Kid Ice
People everywhere, just check this out
Say, something brand new
a highway star
I'm a highway star
Oh, yes I am, you mothers
Thank you. That's a new one, taken off Machine Head.
This is a song about...
Sweet child
And the girlies, and the beepers
And the big, black Oldsmobile
In '83, the beatbox hit
Makin' funky drum sounds from out ya lips
But takin' on nu forms, rap has
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
they say in their lyrics
Give it a year, go look at news and I promise their situation will look different
Now let's keep it funky
Some of Your homies is
And for the love of money, kind of funny, new friends
Public housing, a thousand in a tent (uh)
So I'm forced to sell hell just to pay the rent (yeah)
And for the love of money, kind of funny, new friends
Public housing, a thousand in a tent (uh)
So I'm forced to sell hell just to pay the rent (yeah)
just caught a case
Not from "texa-mase", from gettin' funky like a staircase
[Chorus: x2]
(LL Cool J)
Yeah, what a scene, pullin' a Tech
With
'cause them niggas on the
East is the enemy it's real
Ayo God, the heads is trippin'
Out in New York, b
(Oh fuck that b) fuck that yo!
(Fuck that) money
take you through a tunnel of thought
Wit no support now you got caught off guard
By the number one scar from the Illa-Fifth
Lyrically fulfillin' this
We goin' platinum, nigga
We goin' platinum
Yeah, you got the Live Squad in this motherfucker
We got my nigga Treach from Naughty by Nature in this
Brooklyn! New York City
Cin-ci-natti! Keep on
Talib Kweli-Verse 1:
It's a funky sen-sa-tion ain't it?
I'm havin a conversation wit'cho imagination
It
ya wanna backflip
I get biz with the skit, I DJ like Quik
The topnotch of the block, 'cause I carry a glock
Only hot rocks I'm hot, so give up
ya wanna back flip
I get biz' with the skit, I DJ like Quik
The topnotch of the block, 'cause I carry a Glock
Holy hot rocks I'm hot, so give up
run, duckin' the shotgun
leavin' 'em up off my block stunned
One eighty seven lesson and we done told ya
you fuckin' with Bone you better believe
We like the breeze flow straight out of our lids
Them they got moved by these hard-rock Brooklyn kids
Us floor rush when the DJ's booming classics
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