(Redman)
Mic check, I can get smooth to any groove
Relax the tongue, let my mic take a cruise
around the planet, pack em in like Janet
Jackson, she's askin if I can slam it
I'm....
(Hurricane G)
Yo yo Redman! Man what the fu*k man?
Get the fu*k off that.. punk smoov sh** man!
Get with that ROUGH sh** man, you know how we do!
(Redman)
Mic check, I walk around the streets with a black tech nine
by the waistline, kickin the hype sh**
I never claim to be the best type of rapper
But hafta, show them motherf**ers what I'm after
I'm after the gold, then after that the platinum
Beef after that, Hurricane G packs the gat son
Trigger, bang, bang, yo bust the slang, whut my name?
It's the Redman on the funk thang
Psyche, you're motherf**in right, tonight's the night
To do what I wanna do, to do it like dynamite
The work perfected, when the funk been ejected
I roughen up the rough draft to like make your head split
Punk! Pa** the 40 and the blunt and don't front
on the block, cause when you do front, brothers are gettin stomped
I'm not a addict, more like Puff than Magic
Then pa** it when I'm through cause my crew gots to have it
I don't claim to be a big rap star
cause no matter who you are, you'll still catch a bullet scar
So listen up and take heed to what I'm sayin
Cause tonight's the night and me and my n***az ain't playin
Fat black b**h! Nasty..
bush bear, booga breath b**h
Nasty, talk to your tits b**h
with them nasty Africans, Mr. Bojangles
Turned up shoes havin a**..
Lemming leprechaun haircut motherf**er!
You wanna see me get cool, please, save it for the breeze
cause the lyrics and tracks, make me funky like cottage cheese
f** the smoov sh**, I get down wit the boom bip
like Q-Tip, I kick more styles than Bruce shoe's kick
But tonight's the night what I write tonight
This type of funk with the flavor like Mike'n'Ike's
Hanging out wit my n***az, my n***az
The {Pack Pistol Posse} keep they fingers on the triggers
I keep the 40 between my lap, coolin, rollin down the highway
Blunt system pumps cause it's Friday
Roll over to pick my boys up, we raise a lot of noise
cause, we can do that black, so get the bozack jack
Remember, I do the type of evil that men do
Like cursin out my window at a b**h and her friend too
So turn the volume up a notch
and watch the ba-BUMP, ba-BUMP, make ya speakers pop
That's the funk, when it pumps it makes your rump
jump, jump, jump.. jump, jump, jump
But if you want to see a fly but frantic
cool romantic, more Slick=er than my man Rick
You better check the Yellow Pages under smoov sh**
cause Red ain't down for the bullsh**
n***az f**ed up by letting me make an album (How come rude bwoy?)
To get on the mic and let my f**in style run
Nasty f**in greenthumb Jolly Green n***az
Tango mango, pickin havin a**
Nasty epileptic disease crazy havin a**
Johnny Cash, afro havin
Jack of Spades, boots havin
Tony Danza, shoes wearin a**!
B-b-b-black by popular demand, I expand
My hand to the mic and let my mouth kick the flim flam
I get s**, I get wreck, I puff mad blunts
I get vexed, I break necks, punch out gold fronts, chump
You...
Yo, f** that, yo turn this sh** off man
Turn this sh** off, G
Boom the new record on, knahmsayin?