Kokane - Don't Bite the Phunk lyrics

[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