Rated "R"

Nah nah nah, fuck that! Don't hold me back, the Funkadelic Devil just snapped With a rap, that's shittin on the story of Jack Sprat So put your money where your mouth is, watch Redman house shit And if it's beef I'll punch you in your mouth kid ('Damn!') I got a heart but my heart is made out of nails Word to ?Jamel?, my heart pumps nails in my blood rails I'm not a warrior or barbarian type of nigga I'm just quick to smoke your family then fuck your sister That's what type of shit I'm on, word is bond Been thinkin about playin that nice guy role Cause every since I was an infrant I was different Paid no attention to my moms when she ripped it I was a hardheaded mother-eff, but had to step Cause she hit me with a left, then another left That's why my brain is out of order Because it takes just a quarter to manslaughter your little daughter And do a driveby, fuck that, I walk by and I spray shit Then carve my name in your pavement I was Rated 'X' but I flexed I beat up the devil with a shovel so he dropped me a level Ain't that ill? That I could just stand and watch a bloodspill From a known rapper, but now the rapper's no frill Just because I made a record I'm a star, that's bullshit What's the flavor ?Tim? (Fuck what you heard, this rated R) Back to part two of the segment, the Red bend Mics of all types, pour beer out for my dead friends And if I didn't know ya, to hell witcha punk And tell the devil I'll be in town for lunch (heh heh heh heh) Got Naughty in my Nature plus I'm down with O.P.P The best part about it, I got AIDS, bitch! Psych, I'm only kiddin, only do it to ugly women Cause the pretty one's puss smell like they went fishin I grab my dick with a tight grip, cause I might flip (Yo Red, kick that hype shit on who you had a fight with!) I had a fight with Chuck, the punk motherfuck Tried to stab me in the gut, so I dazed him with a uppercut (BING!) Snapped the neck on Michael Myers then I freaked it; cause it was August And he was talkin this trick or treat shit (Trick or treat!) Jason my man slangs rocks like up the block 143rd and Amsterdam by the smoke shop Norman Bates work the night shift late Since he dresses like his momma, I pimp him and his hoecake Bust a maneuver Freddy Kruger, dreamed about Me havin' him scooped up, he woke up with his dukes up That caused me to cut the hands off the man with the chainsaw Plus I got his brain pickled in a jar So let's get down with the funk break, cause they tailgate My rap style, so to cut em off I truncate And rough em up, tough em up, like bust em up With the one-two punch, like servin a customer And if you hear a man that sounds like me smack him Then ask him where the fuck did he get his damn raps from I know, from me, THE original P-Funk See ya next LP chump!