| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. |
| 1:39 | 
|
|||
| 2. |
| 3:24 | 
|
|||
|
[Jeff Stewart]
And I say... right about now you are rockin with the best! Can I get a hit? *inhale* *coughing* Thank you *coughing* What you're about to experience is a walk on the Funkadelic side Who knows better than the Funkadelic devil himself To all knotty head niggaz bob to this Come walk with Def Squad on the darkside Coming to you live and direct without further adieu I bring to you Redman one more time This is Jeff Stewart and you know how I do it... god DAYAM!!! [Redman] So who's that funky nigga that's known to kick the fat shit? The mirror said "You are, you conceited bastard" *cutting and scratching of bastard* Done by the dogcatcher, dogcatcher, it's the dogfetcher, I betcha Aahhhhhhhhhhh, with the slang Get you coughed up from the weed it'll bust your brain The top notch of hip-hop and I'm on the charts I'm catchin applause when I rock the micraphone from the heart My style's foul, so look into the eyes of Lorimars As you can see, I drop funk bars from here to Mars Still rollin down the highway wit my forty between my lap bitch Crossin DTW, coming into my lap and Boy my skills are stacks, I love to do it from the back My style swarms over ghettoes like crack Blow in any hood and puff a blunt with any nigga As long as we both got, it don't matter who's gun bigger But I bet you you can't do that, cause the multiplatinums can't save your ass on the block, and you're fucked if it ain't pop The funk is blowin wattage out your fuckin trunks Like peak Puma, I known to give a whole lots of lumps Props I got, coming through your block nine cocked My socks, even got three-eighty-nine shots Don't press it, I hang em like them niggaz do in Texas You don't have no heart you chestless, 'cause your heart's on my necklace I give props to real MC's like KRS-One cool G Rap, Buckshot, Busta me and I'm from The East coast!! Where a nigga like you get that fat? And since you came out gassed, well I'm closin your gas cap The creature, from the deeper, ultimate funk freaker Represent New Jersey, keep your eyes up on the bleacher A menace like Dennis, I got game like Ennis I can french-kiss my lyrics, then I run trains with sentence Lord have mercy! It's too much funk to cope with Droppin dope shit after dope shit, we're atrocious That's from the lungs, that rings from here to kingdom come And I don't have to be a Special Ed to get dumb!! |
||||||
| 3. |
| 2:26 |
|
|||
|
Woo-woo-wowowowooo
Lord hi-gher Could somebody, turn on, da lights Somebody, turn on, da lights The darkside! Yessss Guess who's back when I bring funk like Zapp All aboard motherfuckers! While your brains get jacked I'm souped like two scoops of funk juice, word to mother The way I kick you swear that Jim Kelly was in this motherfucker The darkside brings apartheid I act wild like them niggaz from Chi-Town on the Southside Sweeter than this, whoopin niggaz down like Jack Nich When I backflip my tactic graphics Ooooooh! Redman jams it in Due to difficulties I won't be done by ten Friend I got bust shots out the twelve Benz And then we get the bam-ba-zee from one-ten Or is it further up? Plus my style murder ducks So what the fuck, you got the mic turned up fo'? When I Chief Rock underground MC's drop like sheet rock Here's a ride to the underground To the beat y'all Ah to the beat y'all, I do the freak y'all I keep the buddha to last me through the week y'all To the beat y'all Ah to the beat y'all, I do the freak y'all I keep the buddha to last me through the week y'all Come take a trip on my cosmic movie boogie flicks Far beyond space so niggaz say your grace It's a True Lie that I bring drama like Schwarzeneggar When a baby, I had other babies in labor catchin vapors With two gats I move like too fast like Paxton Ask Toni Braxton who got seven days of action Black stars or moons eclipse the volume Bang zoom I'm sendin honies on the moon with ten bags of boom Ridiculously I will pimp an MC To degrees I leave spots like chicken pox, check the synopsis I grow confusing just like Rubik's cube boxes Float like the butter, fly so what if I Blow your lenses, tear the fuckin hinges Did I mention that my lyrical format gets more ahs than a dentist When I'm in this, the knotty-headed era causes terror Y'all gimmick motherfuckers better get y'all shit together One for the money and two for my peeps Nynex can't even reach my technique or rap sheets For the Squad I lick two shots word to God Then take y'all dreams and imaginations To the darkside |
||||||
| 4. |
| 2:12 |
|
|||
|
Switch...
[Dr. Trevis] Hahahahahahaaaa! Come with us Come take the elevator shift six billion feet beneath Where the Def Squad dwells Where your dreams and imaginations is only loose change in a motherfucker's pockets This is Dr. trevis coming to you live from WFDS We're From the DarkSide radio Niggaz, better get your flashlights cause it's pitchblack! [Redman] I travel the Milky Ways, and the stars of the Gods Then return six billion feet beneath to get cigars My lyrical format sounds off like gun claps Underground, where you need flashlights and hard hats My mind is ten levels deeper than Jacob's Ladder Batter the paragraph, after your gall bladder will shatter Nyphomaniac on track when I Flex like Funkmaster Flex you can bet I'm not playing with a full deck! I go far beyond acting hard and pullin triggers I just wanna die and come back as the Nile on the river Zone until I figured, how to wake up in the morning And the corners of my mouth be like foamin when I'm open Y'all neighborhood roughnecks, I cause a threat My silhouette, who pack smacks niggaz just like Treach Comin through comin through, put your hands on your handfun Cause I'm crazy off that chronic from my man grandson I shoot to kill, puff blunts in Hooterville I be murderin MC's from up here to Urbantown I sweat dark, when I get off my shit ock Yoyoyo that's that's E and them! Yo word up? Yo what's going on? Yo chill chill chill chill *car squeels, bullets fire and ricochet* *tires squeel and car crashes* |
||||||
| 5. |
| 3:24 |
|
|||
|
[Incomprehensible]
Still walkin' down the streets with my hand on my black tec My brain is high like New York, New Jersey do car thefts I'm high, when I sag my two black guys I would be brief but my Karl kani's didn't dry I smoke the blunt for all you underground chumps My smoke bangs like it's freshly picked from the swamps So nigga how you roll a blunt? Aiyyo, how you roll a blunt Flip the script on some other shit like how you roll a cunt Now, I smoke the Maui, wow-wee Then I'll be back for me, I'm sure, like Al B Go uptown, smoke quarter-pounds at the Dungeon Keith Murray meets me at the spot with the bom-ba Go back to Jerz smoke with Diezel Don Huh, pick up a bag from my block, two O's the number Who can get swift with the microphone mist Plus I'm crisp like CD's on LP's in 3D My funk respect it, cosmic injected That cause me to set it off just like that club record Hit it from the back, stay strapped like two packs of lubricants It's gonna hurt, no it's not a gat experience The funk dweller, creeps through your cellar And if your moms don't know your ass better tell her, like this y'all Like this y'all, like this y'all 'cause like this y'all There's a million and one blunt spots all over the world That got good herb for all you boys and girls Which one do you go to? [Incomprehensible] Which one do you go to? [Incomprehensible] I'm packin' Buddha by the pounds and pull my Phillies from knapsacks Hey yo I didn't know your nickel bags come that fat Yo check it, my lyrics strip the track butt-naked Catch the local to the A to the Buddha to my vocals And I, set the world on fire Get a billion people higher, from just one blunt in my cypher You swore to God you was mixed in bom-ba-zee The rhymer bombs squads and MC's like Hank Shocklee I spend a knot at all the Buddha spots From fifteen to fifty-fifth I ran all through the blocks I set it off jock, I light a blunt for my nigga D That's doin' three pack, now where I get the hash at You can't fuck with my funk 'cause my funk is kinda abstract Past that, my stuff I'm rough like McGruff on dust There's a million and one blunt spots in America Yeah, I'm tellin' ya [Incomprehensible] Now just throw your blunts up in the motherfuckin' air Smoked out with niggaz from north New York to Montclair I rip the nouns from antonyms to synonyms 'Cause I got soul like James Brown and Rakim, Rock M&M One of the America's Most Blunted Smoked out with MC Eiht and compton most wanted Ninety degrees, smoke with L.O.D. on the Island Then back to Stat, to smoke more packs with the Shaolin I showed the women how to roll a blunt stronger But it didn't work because they lee nails got longer But the weed is good for when you're makin' And girls can front it off like they don't know shit that happened I know what happened, I told her, back Nick that motherfucker so check My stamina, your ass couldn't snap with cameras Leave you on your back like Godzill did gamera Props on blocks smokin' the choc and what-nots I might catch a nickel bag sale from bus stops |
||||||
| 6. |
| 3:32 |
|
|||
|
y'all motherfuckers buckle y'all motherfuckin seatbelts
If you need to get high there's a mask and shit in the overhead compartment I can't tell y'all what the weather's like 'cause my radio's fucked up And if we should experience any type of motor difficulty Don't panic take one more hit off the oxygen mask Calmly put your hands between your legs And kiss your black ass goodbye!! I'm swift like a motherfuckin gift for Christmas When I send my vapors off like Halls menthalyptus My verbs and nouns shatter walls of underground Let me be blunt: I like crackin brews with bitches The ninety-four era I cause terror, whatEVER Rainin on you punks with the funk, so get your umbrellas My guns cruise, tennis shoes, what's happenin I got clapped on, now I'm the one doin the clappin I'm Flexi Wit Da Tec like Artifacts make Memorex blow tape decks when I'm more strapped than latex Felt like menopause, I make niggaz act like beatches Yo yo that nigga Red be frontin -- with they ass full of stitches Woo! I just don't give a FUCK I bite your whole nipple off, sick like sickle-cell anemia Travel around my curse universe I'm droppin 98.7 degrees down to Red Alert Droppin the slang, I'll bust your brains with the real shit Come hit my blunt so I can make y'all feel it Abuse niggaz verbally so call Dyfus I'm a warrior, to the heart, but I didn't kill Cyrus Noorotic, my style format rocks the project I get as ill as chief of police on narcotic Give me a time and I'll free your mind and lick your funky emotions, to blow your veins up with funk overdosing Now who's that nigga that got your crew bellin? Not with guns with funk when I rock tracks like Van Halen I'm in the world, with Jacob's Ladder I'm seein a lot of happy copycat rappers actin like they got asthma They attackin me, they slowin they rhymes down actually They got factories with little dolls named after me But it's no question my funk segment leave the whole atmosphere pressed-in, I take advantage of niggaz like I was molesterin Newark New Jersey's what I represent Iiiiiiiyiiiihhhhh My brain be zoned and I phoned home to ET's home and to hook me up with stash spots to put my chrome in Whattup to Prince Street, Avon Ave I roll a spliff with Fat to be passed through Bedrock and Diamond District So what the fuck I got clapped on for my truck Then I laughed cause fuck the cash I just wanted my tape bag Fantastic fabulous my shit is fat shit The bomb like Elway throw bombs on John Madden Fuck that, let's get to the point, my shit's the joint, I roast Motherfuckers from the East coast to the West coast to your breakfast voltage, I got funk for days by the buckets PPP packs a bunch of wild motherfuckers Hold hold hold, wait wait wait Let me school this bitch Yo bitch my shit is tight, can any MC do this *sounds of sex* And come back on the mic? I think not, my paper make pen leave nuff ink spots On blocks where your punk ass still bustin off slingshots Talkin shit about me when I'm drivin by slowly Sayin I'm this and that when half y'all punks don't even know me Now just for that I let your girl suck my dick from the back and let your moms give me cornrows on my crack Cause I'm nasty like that |
||||||
| 7. |
| 0:32 |
|
|||
| 8. |
| 2:56 |
|
|||
|
Intro: Keith Murray
Yeah, bout to fly that knot Redman, Keith Murray, Erick Sermon with the, Cosmic Slop And we all pack glocks Word is Bond, word is bond Fuck around and get shot Verse One: E Double As I flip, skip to the beat, on wax, and tax I react with tons of macs, a ball, and some jumping jacks Flyin expert, puttin in work No question, cosmic funk and weed session Like GangStarr, step up, it's Hard to Earn But I change up the mode, and blow up the globe The bandit, spittin dialect umm (UMMM) Catchin wreck umm (UMMM) One two micraphone check (UMMM) Attention passenger's we're on a non-central journey To Hell and beyond FUNKADELIC DROP THE BOMB!! Verse Two: Redman Boo-yaa! I'm that type of nigga to give it to ya My Cosmic Slop rules all blocks with funk maneuvers My flow freeze the Nile, The Funk Child splits the river Then I crush, like the bom-ba-zee was rushed, through my verbal lust I'm spaced out, I LOST MY MIND ON CLOUD 19 VISINE FOR EYES, when I blow Alpines Dial 9, 0-0, For the hero of the wierdos I hope my brain don't bust Transform into a 7-11 Slurpie Slush IT'S THE FLY, My music will burn eyes Twice the chemical of Clorox Then I do an autopse on four cops When my jaws drop, ock, I fidget my nuts a lot Got the two glocks, with oowops then bodies trace the chalk I'm like an eclipse on a Friday, the 13th With black cats and Haley's Comet, blazin blunts in my driveway Nostradamus predicted, for you funk fiends That Def Squad will get the fuckin cream like Noxem...geyeah For those that remember pics and afros (it's on like that) Platform shoes and bell-bottoms some got em Spaced out, way out, is what I'm talkin about In the Cosmic Slop of the Ghetto zuzuzuzuzu, zuzuzu, zuzu zuzu zuzu zu zuzu, zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu Verse Three: Keith Murray With amazing manifestations, I dictate to nations More Cosmic Funk innovations in my creation This Cosmic sick mic cylcicyst Mega segments, be Sega, like Genesis I orbits the solar system, listenin Guzzlin, never sippin, or slippin and sympin when the track is rippin I gotcha brain cells bendin and twistin Man listen, I give your whole crew a ass drenchin Just for mentionin, goin that route, runnin yo mouth You get your head smacked off towards down South And your crew too will be spaced out Way out, no doubt, y'all niggaz need to stop And get with this Cosmic Slop (Cosmic Slop, Cosmic Slop) And now, we program, we program Pop in the disk and who the hell is this? |
||||||
| 9. |
| 0:25 |
|
|||
|
Intro:
Aiyyo yo yo yo you better pass it Aiyyo check this out We coming to you live from that BOMB Chocolate City my man Where the knotty headed niggaz and the Brick City brigade dwell And if you don't know your fool better ask Aiyyo yo you better pass that blunt And yo E we comin to you live with the Cosmic type stuff Verse One: Redman Well it's that brother coming six billion feet from beneath And you should be peep-in how I get smoked-out on the weekend I swing it to my crew or down to my fans Schoolin hell of stackas like final exams Cause, it's the Funkadelic, hit you with the irrelevant elements, and it's coming through your block Can't you smell it trick? want to copy-cat my whole format So you get funk tracks, punch lines and skull hats Hoooo! Got a little Redman in town Who's that effin clown soundin wack with the frown?? I don't know man, but you better wonder what I would do While loud on this staff like birds one and two My crew runs thicka than syrup from the burrow You get hurt up, word up, Jam-med like Pearl Knock off from blood clot puff on the rough block Or I peep my man, Rockafella, it don't stop Chorus: On and on, and it don't quit Redman rockin on to the funky shit, c'mon On and on, and it don't quit Redman rockin on to the funky shit I said Jersey's in the house Jersey's in the house I said Brooklyn's in the house Brooklyn's in the house I said Uptown's in the house Uptown's in the house I said the Bronx in the hidouse The Bronx in the hidouse Verse Two: Newark, New Jersey, rock rock on, word is bond I'm comin in swarms, so turn your flashlights on Due to difficulty, my style flows while it tracrossed the planet in 48 Hours like Nick Nolte Droppin the flavor, stay Sky high like Pager I'm magical like Fantasia on paper I Saw the Light like Kraftwerk, of course When the T-L-A Rock shock the stuff, It's Yours! To your drawers, your record label got your staff gassed Thinkin you gonna sell two mil cakes real fast But you're blocked, and your earrings choke like a tec Now, who freakin style your ass gonna steal next? Are there any more imitators in the house?? There are no Bust like NBA Jams, and you can have Chicago Catch the cargo, funky like a bag of Bravos Way back, with a pump 92 K-T-you in car loads Huuh! I just stay funky like that Make you want to (sssss) my style like a junkie on crack Trick, you better back the freak up, for real now When I break it down from Newark NJ to IllTown Chorus: On and on, and it don't quit Redman rockin on to the funky shit, c'mon On and on, and it don't quit Redman rockin on to the funky shit I said Virginia's in the house Virginia's in the house I said Cali's in the house Cali's in the house I said Atlanta's in the house Atlanta's in the house North Carolina's in the house Carolina's in the house Verse Three: Yoo-hoo watch the birdie!! While Red wreck your brains early If rap was be |
||||||
| 10. |
| 4:44 |
|
|||
|
Intro:
Aiyyo yo yo yo you better pass it Aiyyo check this out We coming to you live from that BOMB Chocolate City my man Where the knotty headed niggaz and the Brick City brigade dwell And if you don't know your fool better ask Aiyyo yo you better pass that blunt And yo E we comin to you live with the Cosmic type stuff Verse One: Redman Well it's that brother coming six billion feet from beneath And you should be peep-in how I get smoked-out on the weekend I swing it to my crew or down to my fans Schoolin hell of stackas like final exams Cause, it's the Funkadelic, hit you with the irrelevant elements, and it's coming through your block Can't you smell it trick? want to copy-cat my whole format So you get funk tracks, punch lines and skull hats Hoooo! Got a little Redman in town Who's that effin clown soundin wack with the frown?? I don't know man, but you better wonder what I would do While loud on this staff like birds one and two My crew runs thicka than syrup from the burrow You get hurt up, word up, Jam-med like Pearl Knock off from blood clot puff on the rough block Or I peep my man, Rockafella, it don't stop Chorus: On and on, and it don't quit Redman rockin on to the funky shit, c'mon On and on, and it don't quit Redman rockin on to the funky shit I said Jersey's in the house Jersey's in the house I said Brooklyn's in the house Brooklyn's in the house I said Uptown's in the house Uptown's in the house I said the Bronx in the hidouse The Bronx in the hidouse Verse Two: Newark, New Jersey, rock rock on, word is bond I'm comin in swarms, so turn your flashlights on Due to difficulty, my style flows while it tracrossed the planet in 48 Hours like Nick Nolte Droppin the flavor, stay Sky high like Pager I'm magical like Fantasia on paper I Saw the Light like Kraftwerk, of course When the T-L-A Rock shock the stuff, It's Yours! To your drawers, your record label got your staff gassed Thinkin you gonna sell two mil cakes real fast But you're blocked, and your earrings choke like a tec Now, who freakin style your ass gonna steal next? Are there any more imitators in the house?? There are no Bust like NBA Jams, and you can have Chicago Catch the cargo, funky like a bag of Bravos Way back, with a pump 92 K-T-you in car loads Huuh! I just stay funky like that Make you want to (sssss) my style like a junkie on crack Trick, you better back the freak up, for real now When I break it down from Newark NJ to IllTown Chorus: On and on, and it don't quit Redman rockin on to the funky shit, c'mon On and on, and it don't quit Redman rockin on to the funky shit I said Virginia's in the house Virginia's in the house I said Cali's in the house Cali's in the house I said Atlanta's in the house Atlanta's in the house North Carolina's in the house Carolina's in the house Verse Three: Yoo-hoo watch the birdie!! While Red wreck your brains early If rap was be |
||||||
| 11. |
| 5:42 |
|
|||
|
Motherfuckin ladies and gentleman
My style's rugged like Timberland When I clock lyric then women give me more love than Wimbledon My style 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 got the AK When I wave bitch you better say heeyyyyyyyy I'm a Kid From the Hall I got big balls to make your pussy walls dribble in my drawers Hey boy this is the way the East coast swing it so bring it Man I told you ass Brown-er than James with the Sex Machine shit I keep the chronic patrol on the road In case you're wondering why I keep my izm Cause I smoked everybody else's shit up My style's the ultimate funk when I mic checka One two checka And I give effects to niggaz with my Black and Decker So check the, manuscript, man you flipped Put it down if you can't handle it Got a B-R-C-G, Blunt Rollers College Graduate I got a degrees in Physics on how high I can get Then next I check how many niggaz that can die from my Tec Cause the N-E-W-A-R-K is where the niggaz robbin and stealin And fuckin niggaz everyday Now Jersey's on max so pass the dutchie on the lefthand side Hide the hidash, in case we cridash, in my ride So, sliiiide, before I call the medics You can bet bitch you couldn't get fly if you were FedEx Can I, drop the funk on ya, run it on ya Strong as ammonia, smell it from here to California Cause Reggie Noble dropped that cock named Noble at Sunoco I'm better than rice and beans when I rock you ocho to ocho My music more underground than a kid at 300 XL Convertible, fuel-injected, that's why my style's well-respected I'm dope on the ridealz, so fidealz, on my didealz And chumps are wondering what two niggaz dropped the funk funk Verbally you never heard of me I smoke you third degrees And cause surgery for emergency Cause Reggie Noble's known like burglary I get hot busted when I dip my nuggets Hey, if it take a million niggaz to stop it just like Chuck did Cause we run around Newark with the nine cock Keep it heated for the brothers that's not off my block And if ya don't know the flavor, be a tough guy and enter So go show you more nigga events than Jacob Jaffrey center I'm genuine, to the rhyme, get your canines Cops that got the hot glock stocked for when it's playtime I rock around the Robin TWEET TWEET on the calendar Cause you couldn't pull my number if your class major was Algebra I make bitches moan to my Stallone without Sylvester Cause I'm more deadlier than a whole school system of investors So check us, I always smoke mad blunts before breakfast Cause I, Get Around like 2Pac with Poetic in my Justic Hold tight, hold tight, everybody hold tight I'm sooper like my man cat, cause I keep my styles jam packed I wrreerawwwowww like Anthrax, split my pants like Bill Bixby You could tell the tracks was fat from the work of my MP-60 I smoke the chronic that's why my sinus always fucked up Them bones, them bones, them bones will have you fucked up I blaze blunts with my nigga Mellow, yo say hello (Yo whattup dogg?) Really, now pass the second blunt to Quilly Now sit your big ass down 'cause I don't know about this rap stuff There wasn't rap when I was pickin cotton, sayin massa Y'all y'all whippersnappers, with the caps on backwards Man, y'all fuck around with Quilly I kick a bone out yo' ass quick Watch out now, I ain't bullshittin I representin the oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-G's from forty-three goddamnit And if you keep on with that dirty mistreatin I'm gonna whoop your ass, til your heart stop beating And yo, chronic bubonic the funky bionic You find it I'll have to rewind it where minds are blinded Time for some action so time to find it I smoked out like a cookout, look out my dick's out That was last album when I was bouncin on trains like Malcolm I was hiiiiigh, I thought I wouldn't survive That's why I quit my nine to five and got live Because this hip-to-the-hop shit fills my pockets And I'm Audi for ninety-four because I already got my props Hoes, hoes, and more hoes... |
||||||
| 12. |
| 2:03 |
|
|||
|
Whoo hahh... ohhahh wooooh
Aww shit!! Hey dudes my interludes more fatter than most niggaz LP's So don't sell me to stale cheese I'm more nicer than Little Red Robin Hood's grandmama puffin on ganja sippin on a Cherry Bianca My grand finale's like an alley when it's rowdy kick more bars than the penile G And let my nine clap loudly Click click bee yow bang booyaka!! What am I do to ya? It's somethin new to ya Like screwin ya, all over my studi-ah Ride on my MP-60 and let the S-950 squeeze your titties That quickly I hooked you, now fix me with your lips B...otch, unloosen my belt thinkin to grab the crotch But before you do move my glock before it shoot my cock And see basically them trick bitches get no dap (word) And see basically Redman album is no joke (word) And see basically I don't get caught up at my label (word) Cause I kill when they fuck with food on my dinner table (word) I drop a punchline at lunchtime cause I'm a Close Encounter of the None Kind with dumb rhymes I battle allay'all at one time So fuck all you fools out there with the large vocabulary in your sentence, I don't need that shit to pay my rent with, huh And to the nosey snake-ass hoes I ask you Why you be acting all fly when your monkey-ass work at fast food? And why is it everytime that a multiplatinum artist always use the underground to make a comeback? Is it fair to the hardcore niggaz that rap? That don't give a fuck about the radio plus the next bitch at that? And being hardcore and mad about wearing high-tech boots and black skelly hats? And making fake-ass frowns because your best buddy packs? Think about it Sip on a chocolate thai, and let your brain fall out of focus This is another episode, coming live from the Funkadelic man himself Yeah Ahhh Huh |
||||||
| 13. |
| 4:13 |
|
|||
|
I'm like row row like I have cerebral palsy
My flows be's wet like all you girls drawers be Crack the dill's spread the Buddha in the hid-ouse Roll it up and Diddas, who tipped in for the 10 bag Etcetera, I roll my blunts with two textures Pick up 50 bags and then I smoke all the extras It's the truth like funk 180 proof Don't drop your drawers I'll fuck through your daisy dukes, true Put your fingers up in the air if your high I walk by, so f-in' dry I swing up in it 'bout an average as half as Good as Reggie Jackson's that's why you talk backwards And touch bills and Bogart shit like Humphrey You couldn't beat me if you ran with 21 Jumpstreet Or 90210 fuck it yo, in the movies I'm the Nigga puffin' Buddha in the back row [Chorus:] I can't wait to get it on [Repeat 8x] I'm just a smoky boy, I'm from the land of the lost You can't see me like Charlie Angel's boss I'm often coolin' round the Bliddocks I rock round the Cliddock My Gliddock cocked from here to 16 for Liddocks I tried to Thomas if I'm gettin' scopic I was built like two tits but now I'm butter like Blue Bonnet Now who got the funk, we got the funk A yo well, I got the weed, we got the blunt I never sniff, I used to puff Buddha's in the jail Back in 88 when it was 20 cent a gram You couldn't read me in braille, hell I write my names on walls in smoke spots when I'm buyin' L The fly guy with force like Luke sky Down for 8 ball see twa bitch if you fly The funkadelic been rockin' mic's since the fourth grade I terminate like X and I terminate like Schwarzenegge' Dum di dum, rock like Buju Banton Soup like won ton, fuck by the ton Please, my whole crew's makin' cheese Tonight's the night baby so suck up on these And it's on [Chorus] I said, I catch the A-train to the left, smoke the junk I set shit off like Boba Fett. Big up to all my Nigga's in the housing projects I'm Runnin' up in your contingents and split your guts, round and round If you get scared of my lines when I rock well Got wits like Pernell, shits the bomb like Akinyele Rickety rock it, mind be best to knock this Waste Nigga's like toxic, wet like galoshes Can I handle my biz? Yes you can I 'cause chaos and bring a lot of def to jams Yes I can, now ask to get out Pop the trunk, clu-clunk and now give me a ba-bump ba-bump Oh, cool, smooth like two blue suede shoes Y'all faggot's stepped on my Huffman and Coo's Word to Dan, tan, pillow and cool be |
||||||
| 14. |
| 4:28 |
|
|||
|
The hype's got me, I knock 'em out the box then out socks
'Cause winicumuhround, niggaz skate like the rocks My block's hot, so gimme all you got When I'm done rockin', I leave you all doin' the Bus Stop My format spins wheels like Pat Sajak I rub niggaz out like Ajax now hit the playback Rrrwwhwoaah, look out, roast 'em like cookouts I'm smoked out, all you MC's, pull your books out Word is bond it's on I get at Dawn like Marvin Gaye Starvin' since the days of Kindergarten When I dye my ashes, flip my coffin backwards Blow shit up like the 4th of July, with half sticks And on and on, to the break of Rae-Dawn Chong I'm 'Killin' You Softly' with this song, with this bomb I'm like the Bronx 'cause I Boogie Down I'm representin' Jersey motherfucker, winicumuhround Winicumuhround, homeboy watch yo nugget (Aiyyo, yo, yo Redman, yo that was last album) Aiyyo fuck it, bust it The top, notch, look over your sess spots Get dumb like a whole bag of jumps with red tops Burn more steam than carpet cleaners I'm meaner then I'm iller than OJ, catchin' a misdemeanor Boom-bash I set it off (Right, right) I shot up your lights while you caught up in the heights My lyrics starvin', my crew runs like the mob And the funk butter cup 'cause I'm a bastard at robbin' I shake the valleys over Cali when I'm spliffed up Rock a fifth up, that measure nine point oh on the Erichter Are you tuned in to my tunes it's boom Y'all niggaz couldn't see me if y'all had zoom I'm accurate like Acura, my style's ninety years maximum Fuel-injected like a Maxima, wheni'muharound motherfucker The way I get wreck y'all niggaz call it mic check I'm vexed and if I got an itchy finger like Bernard Geotz With a pad and a pen I blend funky images That leave your girl hemmoragin' for about two million And three years move along there's nothing to see here If I wasn't nice motherfucker, I wouldn't be here Yeah, yeah, put metaphors inside a bracket Def Squad's in the house and motherfucker we can back it Come test your skills for real with a bomb bang, boom bang The sound makes your brains wet With 'The Color Purple' on a freight train The devil's the conductor Then take a trip to the darkside motherfuckers My funky pattern takes interludes around Saturn I'm more diesel than evil, meant evil like Sebastian Don't try this at home kids, I zone with ET's And other alien type of MC's So throw your shit up in the sky 'Cause Redman's about to get live, like one-two-five I smoke 'High Times' magazines when I lounge And broken mics and cords is left Winicumuhround motherfucker |
||||||
| 15. |
| 4:09 |
|
|||
|
Intro:
Eeeyeahh Wuditlooklike to all you trick bitches and you punk ass niggaz out there I'm talkin to you live from WFDS It's about two thousand degrees down this motherfucker We're From the DarkSide radio But the funk just don't stop As we take y'all fat roly poly asses on another journey To the darkside... Verse One: Wuditlooklike? When I wipe off my sweat Verbally I'm Untouchable like Elliot Ness To the best of my ability I rock any facility And fuck the yellow cabs I smoke buddha out deliveries I'm just as high as the fuckin friendly skies Cause the buddha I smoke, is no joke, when I'm loc'ed When I'm, open, you can't even see my chinky eyes Then I wet it, then you be like -- that shit be soaked!! and Two Black Guys when I get busy like the L.I. I'm saggin my.... Karl Kani... Well I, swing it back and forth like a leaf But I can pass niggaz straight out of first-class Without traffic I flow like the B.Q.E. PPP, got the glocks and techs Then leave em huffin and puffin like first day at Lemans class Chorus: repeat 4X And Def Squad always got some fly shit on deck I said wuditlooklike (wuditlooklike) Wuditlooklike (wuditlooklike) Verse Two: A-hem... The Funk Doctor Spock blow the watt through your box I come hotter than Treach, you bet about callin the cops Because (this type of funk you don't hear on the regular) Rock six seven eight nine ten (to eleven ta) Knew my style got more powers than Cocoon Zoom your focus, I drop the mic and leave it smokin When I'm vexed, my concepts Wreck like Effect I'm robbin your brains with antilogical, phenomical Verbal communications blow to the next ep Suicidal with lethal type funk spread your nodules Straight up the weight up plus I max like a Beta Boy I fuck your head up like a blunt that's laced up The boogie verbalist, vocalist I get open with, puttin scannings on the fake soloist My style reachin down like Ike, switch up like dykes and You'll be tellin your psychologist wuditlooklike Chorus Verse Three: Wuditlooklike suckers, punk motherfuckers Bitches be actin funny, don't wanna show me no love 'cause They think I'm crazy and like mentally sick Ahhh, give em the dick then they quiver like fish, then I Smoke a pound of herb a day, and yo Some bitches say, I'm the Mack like Maceo I don't be that I just beez the funk disease The funkindominal, I bring drama to any rendezvous Rock three-sixty-five, twenty-four, Monday through that leave MC's, recognizing like Sam Sneed That other shit, makes them other ship, flip funk ridiculous, inconspicous with lyrics A-uhhm, oh-seven-one-oh-three's where I from Been gettin dumb, every since Harlem World used to jump I bust off the glock for the hood and the block Chorus And that's for all them hardrock niggaz that's comin in flocks |
||||||
| 16. |
| 3:54 |
|
|||
| 17. |
| 4:50 |
|
|||
| 18. |
| 4:13 |
|
|||
|
Hahahahahahaaaaa
Watch out! Geyeeah! As we take a journey to the darkside Watch out! From Hell and beyond the knotty headed nigga era has triumphed Watch out! A new ever! If you don't know your bitch ass better Watch out! Axe somebody! Shoot em up! The Hurricane G is live and in color Watch out! We run you motherfuckers! The Funk Doctor Spock coming live and in color Watch out! We run you motherfuckers! Puffin mad spliffs, so fuck a bitch And a nigga, cause niggaz, and bitches ain't shit! Hahahahahahaaaa! Dr. Trevis Watch out! Is in the motherfuckin' house With a couple of sick patients for your bitch ass Watch out! Yeah! The Hurricane G is the ultimate funk, pop the trunk (Hoo-hah!! Wild like Shaolin monks) Representin', comin' out of Brooklyn, Flatbush You wuss, you can't push push in the bush Well uh, let's take a journey to hell and beyond Where the bomb grows on palms, and bags labelled Cheech and Chong The Jimi Hendrix of rap, I got an afro and bandanna Then I rock jams like Santana I move MC's like niggaz move keys uptown Red and Hurricane G, so how you like us now?! [Chorus: Repeat 4X] Watch out! We run New York Yeah (Hurricane G hit em one time) From the Brook, taught how to trick by the real gangsta crooks So I holds back what you took! I take my funk and my religion serious Sanctify y'all and leave y'all house niggaz delirious (hahahahaa) cause I'm furious! How dare you motherfuckers, forget about the ultimate Funk, bitttccchh nigga! I got your wicked witch with a switch Motherfucker, fuck you and your crew! So what nigga, is it you want to do? In ninety-fo' I kick the wicked for the bitches For the real trick deez who can dig it Cause after pop thought all that, Hurricane stay fat Word to mom, big dick boricuas in the back The queen of the East coast, funk gangsta pack buddha on the rhyme since eighty-nine It's all in your mind, but what's yours is mine Your dough and your hoes Bump N Grind to my rhymes Now! It ain't a nigga who could hang or pop yang, about a motherfuckin' th-a-a-a-ang And uh, fuck any bitch who can't hang I'm representin' bitches universal! It go, one for the biz, on the bizness Which y'all blesses with God's blessings, do you see? Hurricane and Redman original steel Latin Queens in the house!! So nigga swing it over here on these big fat tits!! (Titties, hahahahahaa) The Funk Doctor Spock, blast up on your block I'm walkin' through the sewer with manure on my socks Your style, I freaked it when I was a child So you talkin' that baby talk like, Who's Talkin Now? Verbally I crush, brains erupt Blow your focus, like you sniffin' angel dust Run of the mill I'm not, watch me kill a cock-sucker And cause ruckus, like them L.O.D. motherfuckers Every verse, every word I preach Represents the East, long as the human eyes can see Gimme that funk funk funk funk funk funk funk funk beat! I light a blunt for niggaz up in Sing-Sing I do it to death, style is funk that's fresh Remove your vest, you just won the wet t-shirt contest And I'm hotter, than the Globetrotters in the Bahamas I got a pair of pajamas made out of ganjah and almonds and I'm as Eager, as nigga wantin' my shit to dub Cause my shit be bangin' like the Crips and Bloods Troop, I flew the coop like Big Bird in Timb boots I Skywalk the planet like my code name was Luke From the darkside, I'm from the darkside Pah I'm Above the Law like Steven Segall Motherfucker!! Watch out! Hahahaha, we take you to the darkside Come travel Watch out! On our metaphoric futuristic type shit As we blow your brains like spliffs Watch out! Dr. Trevis is outta here For the nine-fo' you stank... bitch Watch out! Yeahh Watch out! |
||||||
| 19. |
| 1:39 |
|
|||
| 20. |
| 3:50 |
|
|||
|
Who wanna have a motherfuckin orgy?
Word is bond word is me Smokin mad blunts and all the fronts and Check it out whatcha want and Go on with slang well get to bang rockin my thang Funkadelic hit you with irrelevant heyyyy Micraphone check I walk around the street with black Tecs and knapsacks I'm known for smokin ass cracks til I get ass flashbacks So all my niggaz if you're fuckin damage let me hear ya you can *bo bo bo bo bo bo bo* now did you catch a victim? HELL NO Come back in to fatten to funky tracks Blast a motherfucker until you're peekin through his back Cause my brain is twisted, funky realistic on the ill shit I rock it til, bitches start givin up that punany Pajamies, up the coochie, pass the clit, pass the loose shit Then BOO-YAA, I gave you another shot of the good shit Don't believe me why your pussy breathin hard enough to pinch the clitoris, dangle it from my cock I don't feel shit So check me the original Joe Pesky freak the sexy I got more Gadgets than the Inspector, go-go jet-skis Then swoop through your troops knock the boots on your cutes Grab you for your loot, wrap my fuckin chain around your tooth Cause, that's the way it goes when Tonight's Da Nite The music feelin Funkadelic and the mood is right I stick the nine between your eyes and blast you outta sight Cause that's the way the knotty-headed nigga, rollin right Blunts by the boxes, I smuggle the chocolate thai to get me high when I ran through more niggaz, than any kid that was adopted Plus an ostrich couldn't swallow my cock, quick cause it's stopped which makes the Soopaman Luva get stockings by the flocks bitch, hrrrahhh So on and on and let me kick the rab That light skinned brother with mad shaft up your fuckin ass You wanna see me get cool, the original rude bwoy, fuck with the new toys Like pistols, I dismiss crews, so order some new boys Blast the funky buddha's lockin ash up in my body For Fozzy Patsi I bring Sad Days to niggaz constant... ..ly! Freak Funkadelic phrases cause I'm true school I'm fuckin Madonna down to Smurfette down one down to M'bufu Funks formatic, the fat shit, the wicked basket from caskets Plus I'm rollin blunts with niggaz ashes Smoke on the choke, light a toke until it's proper I deserve an Oscar for pullin glocks out niggaz mouths cuz I kill like that, plus I roll like that I'm that guy with cerebral-palsy even Bo knows that BUT FUCK THAT, we drop the new runner to get some ganja Goin Uptown, we check Benny Red out, he pulls the smack out Then roll up the bills-nilz, or better yet the pute the loo-pay, rank near my nost to rock the block Hittin niggaz upside the head with rocks in socks, glock on cock Back, trigger-hap, P P P rockin that unity Motherfucker! Yeah yeah motherfuckers, it's on it's on it's on Throw your hands in the air, and wave em like you just don't care And if you haven't been fucked, by the Soopaman Luva Let me hear you say, oh yeahhyeah! Oh yeahhyeah! Funkadelic, hit you with the irrelevant facts and max, and on and on my crew pull gats Flick slaps em back, come on and fuckin up tracks Kick the mad wicked, bricks to stick it Come on and, I get Wilson like Pickett then stick it She wanna check me when I'm lickin your ass And lickin ya down to your clitoris Do you remember this, bitch, I know you're kinda hearin this Style that I'm kickin, yes I'm mad wicked Funkadelic, runs the mad train up your anus! Baby, cause I'm famous! Nope, I didn't mean that The mean fat black fat tracks and old dreams at I'm all teen strapped, sports a bean hat Want to rhyme to be down, but homey ain't gonna bean that |
||||||
|
