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  • What yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
    Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, check it yo
    You say a one for the trouble two for the time
    Come on y'all let's rock that uh(I can feel the funk, I can feel the funk)(I can feel the funk, I can feel the funk)
    Check itI come to grips with mics
    I come to grips that a lot of mic users is dikes
    I come to grips with the likes of
    Fred Hampton
    Cold so I'm lampin' with no need for spotlight
    When I got light like an intersection, you talk
    But you came to my town with protection
    Election year, had the block hot
    I scream, "**** the world", for having a baby girl sorta cock block
    I write rhymes like
    I come from the windy city
    With my crew,
    I click like simply, stand midi with reality
    Casually,
    I walk through these war games
    Some claim say but then they take on whore names
    If that's the way your *** drives, stay in your lane
    If you're a man,
    I can't tell like if the door rang now
    Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place
    It ain't a bunch of ****** all up in your face
    The music is thumpin' and you're feelin' the bass
    What you wanna do girl(Wanna shout)
    To the brothas when you come in a jam, it ain't a bunch of ******
    It ain't high tech and ain't got free liquor
    You jackin' his name and stick to make you jones get thicker
    What you wanna do man?
    Yo, check it(Let go)
    Some ****** be on the mic, sounding like dikes
    Allow me to get on and bust like
    Spike(Uh)Lee,
    I'm in the majors with no rotation
    Through stations of ********,
    I see through like a pager
    In the age of
    Aquarius, various things
    Is gonna carry us in intellect and what have you
    Street astrologist's interpret point stars and half moons
    Then end up on garages or walls in bathrooms
    Every black moon, a rap tune move me
    The rap sun,
    I rain more than
    Rudy, that unruly **** is played
    It don't stop, it's time to get it, get it made
    I got my mind made up like
    Foxy Brown's face
    I know how the underground tastes
    I want a crib from the ground up, rooms spin at a round pace
    Get down based on true story, through
    CoreyCame close to the teachers
    Colder as the
    Iceman, posted before it start wrinklin'
    Linkin' with cats, who don't react to change in the years
    Fulfill prophesies in rooms full of emptiness, now
    Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place
    It ain't a bunch of ****** all up in your face
    The music is thumpin' and you're feelin' the bass
    What you wanna do girl(Wanna shout)
    To the brothas when you come in a jam, it ain't a bunch of ******
    It ain't high tech and ain't got free liquor
    You jackin' his name and stick to make you jones get thicker
    What you wanna do man?
    Yo, check it(Let go)
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    Yo, check it, check it
    I came through the corridor, with the aura
    Raw Chicago
    Mora, scope the horror
    Read between the lines and know the border
    Some pop wines for juice,
    I wait in the water
    Waitin' for you
    Big Willie ****** to have a show at the crib
    We gonna get with your glamor, long as we know where it is
    Tell you ain't a player by your sweater doused with wack feather
    The Crib got the gangsta playa **** patent like black leather
    I rap better than you, you or maybe him
    But I am like a tree and every lyric is a timb
    Spilled brews and greasy foods got my car smelly
    Some be so high, they believe they fly like
    R. KellyBut then they fall off, dusted ****** is gettin' sawed off
    They fall soft, my mental lift is for me to haul off,
    I kick ass
    Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place
    It ain't a bunch of ****** all up in your face
    The music is thumpin' and you're feelin' the bass
    What you wanna do girl(Wanna shout)
    To the brothas when you come in a jam, it ain't a bunch of ******
    It ain't high tech and ain't got free liquor
    You jackin' his name and stick to make you jones get thicker
    What you wanna do man?
    Yo, check it(Let go)
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    Makes me wanna shout, wanna shout
    Makes me wanna shout, wanna shout
    Makes me wanna shout, wanna shout
    Makes me wanna shout, wanna shout
    Wanna shout
  • What yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
    Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, check it yo
    You say a one for the trouble two for the time
    Come on y'all let's rock that uh(I can feel the funk, I can feel the funk)(I can feel the funk, I can feel the funk)
    Check itI come to grips with mics
    I come to grips that a lot of mic users is dikes
    I come to grips with the likes of
    Fred Hampton
    Cold so I'm lampin' with no need for spotlight
    When I got light like an intersection, you talk
    But you came to my town with protection
    Election year, had the block hot
    I scream, "**** the world", for having a baby girl sorta cock block
    I write rhymes like
    I come from the windy city
    With my crew,
    I click like simply, stand midi with reality
    Casually,
    I walk through these war games
    Some claim say but then they take on whore names
    If that's the way your *** drives, stay in your lane
    If you're a man,
    I can't tell like if the door rang now
    Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place
    It ain't a bunch of ****** all up in your face
    The music is thumpin' and you're feelin' the bass
    What you wanna do girl(Wanna shout)
    To the brothas when you come in a jam, it ain't a bunch of ******
    It ain't high tech and ain't got free liquor
    You jackin' his name and stick to make you jones get thicker
    What you wanna do man?
    Yo, check it(Let go)
    Some ****** be on the mic, sounding like dikes
    Allow me to get on and bust like
    Spike(Uh)Lee,
    I'm in the majors with no rotation
    Through stations of ********,
    I see through like a pager
    In the age of
    Aquarius, various things
    Is gonna carry us in intellect and what have you
    Street astrologist's interpret point stars and half moons
    Then end up on garages or walls in bathrooms
    Every black moon, a rap tune move me
    The rap sun,
    I rain more than
    Rudy, that unruly **** is played
    It don't stop, it's time to get it, get it made
    I got my mind made up like
    Foxy Brown's face
    I know how the underground tastes
    I want a crib from the ground up, rooms spin at a round pace
    Get down based on true story, through
    CoreyCame close to the teachers
    Colder as the
    Iceman, posted before it start wrinklin'
    Linkin' with cats, who don't react to change in the years
    Fulfill prophesies in rooms full of emptiness, now
    Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place
    It ain't a bunch of ****** all up in your face
    The music is thumpin' and you're feelin' the bass
    What you wanna do girl(Wanna shout)
    To the brothas when you come in a jam, it ain't a bunch of ******
    It ain't high tech and ain't got free liquor
    You jackin' his name and stick to make you jones get thicker
    What you wanna do man?
    Yo, check it(Let go)
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    Yo, check it, check it
    I came through the corridor, with the aura
    Raw Chicago
    Mora, scope the horror
    Read between the lines and know the border
    Some pop wines for juice,
    I wait in the water
    Waitin' for you
    Big Willie ****** to have a show at the crib
    We gonna get with your glamor, long as we know where it is
    Tell you ain't a player by your sweater doused with wack feather
    The Crib got the gangsta playa **** patent like black leather
    I rap better than you, you or maybe him
    But I am like a tree and every lyric is a timb
    Spilled brews and greasy foods got my car smelly
    Some be so high, they believe they fly like
    R. KellyBut then they fall off, dusted ****** is gettin' sawed off
    They fall soft, my mental lift is for me to haul off,
    I kick ass
    Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place
    It ain't a bunch of ****** all up in your face
    The music is thumpin' and you're feelin' the bass
    What you wanna do girl(Wanna shout)
    To the brothas when you come in a jam, it ain't a bunch of ******
    It ain't high tech and ain't got free liquor
    You jackin' his name and stick to make you jones get thicker
    What you wanna do man?
    Yo, check it(Let go)
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    I can feel the funk,
    I can feel the funk
    Makes me wanna shout, wanna shout
    Makes me wanna shout, wanna shout
    Makes me wanna shout, wanna shout
    Makes me wanna shout, wanna shout
    Wanna shout