[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 fuck man?

Get the fuck off that.. punk smoov shit man!

Get with that rough shit 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 shit

I never claim to be the best type of rapper

But hafta, show them motherfuckers 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 motherfuckin 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! pass 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 pass 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 niggaz ain't playin



Fat black bitch! nasty..

Bush bear, booga breath bitch

Nasty, talk to your tits bitch

With them nasty africans, mr. bojangles

Turned up shoes havin ass..

Lemming leprechaun haircut motherfucker!



You wanna see me get cool, please, save it for the breeze

Cause the lyrics and tracks, make me funky like cottage cheese

Fuck the smoov shit, 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 niggaz, my niggaz

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 bitch 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 shit

Cause red ain't down for the bullshit

Niggaz fucked up by letting me make an album (how come rude bwoy?)

To get on the mic and let my fuckin style run



Nasty fuckin greenthumb jolly green niggaz

Tango mango, pickin havin ass

Nasty epileptic disease crazy havin ass

Johnny cash, afro havin

Jack of spades, boots havin

Tony danza, shoes wearin ass!



B-b-b-black by popular demand, i expand

My hand to the mic and let my mouth kick the flim flam

I get sex, i get wreck, i puff mad blunts

I get vexed, i break necks, punch out gold fronts, chump

You...



Yo, fuck that, yo turn this shit off man

Turn this shit off, g

Boom the new record on, knahmsayin?


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