[Intro: Answer Phone]
Hello
You've reach area code 213 291 50 50
The edge recording studio
Where in session
So leave us a message
We'll call you back
Thank you
Yes this is tracey calling for kokane
I heard your new album its the sh**
We love it, we love it
Umm where gonna give you a call back ok peace
Yo kokane man this is skit man
When ya gonna get with me man
I got this ounce up here
C'mon G dont have me trippin like this man
Get with the n***a later
Yo koke' pick up the phone its mike smooth man
Yeah, i see how you floss on them b**hes man
I'll meet you at the studio peace
Hey'yo n***a this is your sister
I heard dre and kurupt and them
Tryin' diss you on some sh**
I know you ain't gone let them
Punk a**es n***as try to diss you
I hope you get this message
Before the album come out n***a peace
[Intro- Cold 187'um]
Yeah what's up Kokane
"what's up player"(cold chillin'in this muthaf**a)
Yeah we're just go on laid back in the studio, man on this groove
And talk about some muthaf**as, that we don't give a f** about
(definetly don't give a f** about, you know what I'm saying)
On some fly fly funk sh**, (you know what I'm saying)
Some sh** that n***as bit, "what's up partner ha ha ha-
I'm talkin to you Dre, don't bite my sh**
Don't bite the funk that feeds you
Cause I sure the hell don't need ya
Ha ha what's up..
Yeah.. now while we're in the studio kickin' it off
(you know what I'm saying)- on the ill tip
You know, I wanna do some old school
You know, I wanna just kick some sh** off
And show them muthaf**as I mean business -(you know what I'm saying)
So ah when the clock strikes to six
I'mma put them hoes in the mix (hi hi hi hi)
And I'mma do it like this for them ( ya know what I'm sayin')
[Cold 187'um]
Ahh yeah ahh
1-87 chillin' in my coup dippin'
One thing I can't stand is when fools get the set trippin'
Now I was down with the gang truce
Until I found out you was gettin' ganked by Dr. Suess
Now you can get Compton, Long Beach
South Central, Watts, Carson even Pomona, Yo
You can even run to Timbuktu
But I'mma creep through the fog b**h and I'mma smoke you
Now I'mma take you through you history book
Boo Ya, let's take a look
Yeah, when I first came to Ruthless I was livin' like hustler
But see you, you was livin' straight like a busta
I used to think you was a troop
'til I remembered you was in the muthaf**in' Wreckin Cru
And then I looked at an old album cover
It was you chillin' lookin' gay as a muthaf**a
I could have took it any kind of way
But see six months later you were NWA
And now it's gangsta gangsta pimpsta pimpsta
But to me you was still wimpsta wimpsta
Yeah you dissed Eazy-E but I'm confused
Cause you're scared as f** to diss Ice Cube
Yeah now you're all straight smilin'and trucin'
But remember "yo Dre, stick to producin'"
Now you say you ain't gettin' gangked no more
But I know who owns d**h Row.. really doe
Yo I got a little piece of paper from someone
And not one line on it reads Andre Young
You try to diss my record deal, but I'm still quick
I'm on a mission, and I'm going for the f**in' gift
So next time your in the place
I'm hollering 1-8-7 with my Glock in your f**in' face
Cause real n***as don't go out that quick
So it's cool that you bit my sh**- b**h
Cause I'm a baller by far and plus a G
And I like my chronic twist with some VSOP
See broke n***as can't buy it cause it costs ends
Shut the f** up, you're just Dre's broke friend
Snoop Dogg you better get your paper work right
Because if not you'll be all bark with no bite
Yo- see we go kinda back see
But see things got f**ed up when your flunkie tried to diss me
You need to go and check your puppy, G
Because who the f** is he, to jump up and diss me
Cause I'm a n***a with a gang of funk
And I'mma show the muthaf**a to keep my name out his mouth
Yo- I never got smoked you muthaf**ing new jack
You f**in' around with me you gonna end up on your back
Yo try to diss me to get respect
But you sounded like a muthaf**in Redman reject
I give props when props are due
And my props to you is muthaf**a f** you
You're just a flunkie for the D-R-E
You punk muthaf**a, you wannabe G, (yeah)
And you know I always drop the sh** proper
You can ask your homies or you can ask the doctor
But he don't get no props neither
I'mma say it on wax and I can say it when I see ya (fool)
Try to kick it like you got stamina
Whoop that a** like Luke did in Atlanta
Oops did you slip, did you trip, did you run
Did he have a gun, did you want some
No I don't think so (ah well)
Here's a bone you can choke
Get your a** with the mafia loc
Yeah fool, so what you wanna throw up
Cause you're broke as a muthaf**a
Lookin tore up
But I'm the original 1-87 no one can do it better
So I'm out, and peace to my homie Snoop
Yo I hope you get yours before they do you- yeah
And that's realer then a juice of a duce
See some might not like it but yo it's the truth
[SweetTalk (aka Kokane)]
Boop boop be doo- well alright y'all
Yes lordy, ah just say, some say it's like the Peanuts Gang
I took your house off ya Snoopy- well a wrong
Say Dre ah, my name it's Sweet Talk
Now ah, do you belive in funk after d**h?
Cause I do, so watch this
[Kokane]
It's like dip-dip-a-la we got to make a sack
We can fix your funk when the sh**s on the flat
Pump pump you up, send you on your way
And I don't belive in celebratin' Dre day
It's like "Hear ye, hear ye! Come one, come all!"
Kokane is servin s**as at the players ball
If you come up the deal?
You will get blasted
A tisket, a tasket, we throw your body in the basket
It's a wonderful day in my muthaf**in neighborhood
A wonderful day in my goddamn neighborhood
Now rollin' tip-toe, incognito
Ichin' to serve a fool when my pump says so (Pump Pump)
Is another n***a with the devious plottin
And if you're f**in with this n***a
You'll be spittin' out buck shots
So no pain no gain
Bakin soda free and they call me Kokane
Now I'mma f** you up Kurupt
Cause I'mma bust trough your hood like the Schlitz Malt Liquor bull
Cause you gets no propers
Now your throwin' up the Pound
But I'm throwin' up the Black Mafia
Can't stop ya, what you wanna do?
Bring it on Snoop
And your whole f**in' Puppy Pound crew
It's the nickel-slick n***a from Pomona
Not fake like lacers
But real like 'Tona's
Snoop Dogg you f**in co-opt/car hop
Did most of the writing for Dre
And still you get your true props?
Now I see n***a's rich
But you was in the county washing master's shoes like a b**h
Now who's been sleepin' in my bed
Eatin' my funk, takin dope styles by the chunk's
Cause I'mma funky to the finish
Cause your funk got a gang of B-12 in it
[Outro (Kokane)]
Yeah in case you didn't know
It's Black Mafia Life for life- fool
Above The muthaf**in' Law
UBU- what you wanna do
Black Hole of Watts
To my homie over there that ain't sh**
And to my funkinmuffin' Coconut
We clowning, yeah
[Outro]
Ahh, tell me
What plans do you have for a future of kokane
Well what we do, what we have
We plan to still funk'em all the way too infinity
Because ahh, are energy will never stop
And energy you can't stop energy or funk
Cuz it goes on too the next life
And will be funkin'em all the way into infinity
So there you have it
Well alright
So there you have it
Finally they found the flashlight to the funk
So brought to you by these message's of funk fly sh**
Written an unbitten by the one great
You know his name
The fly-ist funk you ever heard
Most addictable
Kokane
Well alright