Funk - Machine gun lyrics

Verse One: So you wanna be hardcore With your hat to the back, talkin bout the gats in your raps But I can't feel that hardcore appeal That you're screamin, baby I'm dreamin This ain't Christopher Williams, still some MC's got to feel one, caps I got to peel some To let n***as know... that if you f** with Big-and-Heavy I get up in that a** like a wedgie Says who? Says me, the lyrical n***as sayin, "Biggie off the street, it's a miracle" Left the d** alone, took the thugs along with me Just for n***as actin shifty Sticks and stones break bones, but the gat'll k** you quicker Especially when I'm drunk off the liquor Smokin funk by the boxes, packin Glocks is Natural to eat you n***as like chocolates The funk baby Chorus (repeats 8X) "I live for the funk, I'll die for the funk" (LOTUG, Chief Rocka) Verse Two: All I want is b**hes, big booty b**hes Used to sell crack, so I could stack my riches Now I pack gats, to stop all the snitches From stayin in my business, what is this? Relentless Approach, to know if I'm broke or not Just cause I joke and smoke a lot Don't mean I don't tote the Glock Sixteen shots for my n***as in the pen Until we motherf**in meet again Huh, I'm doin rhymes now, f** the crimes now Come on the ave, I'm real hard to find now Cause I'm knee deep in the beats In the Land Cruiser Jeep with the Mac-10 by the seats For the jackers, the jealous a** crackers in the (car sirens) I'll make you prove that it's bulletproof Hold ya head, cause when you hit the bricks I got gin, mad blunts, and b**hes s**in dick The funk baby Repeat chorus Verse Three: So I guess you know the story, the rap-side, crack-side How I smoked funk, smacked b**hes on the backside Bed-Stuy, the place where my head rests Fifty shot clip if a n***a wan' test The rocket launcher, Biggie stomped ya High as a motherf**in helicopter That's why I pack a nina, f** a misdeameanor Beatin motherf**ers like Ike beat Tina (What's Love, Got to Do) When I'm rippin all through your whole crew Strapped like bamboo, but I don't sling guns I got bags of funk, and it's sellin by the tons n***as wanna know, how I live the mack life Making money smoking mics like crack pipes It's type simple and plain to maintain I add a little funk to the brain Machine Gun Funk baby! Repeat chorus