Lyrics
Yeahhh. a-ha-ha-ha!
Lyricist Lounge.
Yo, comin to you live
Live, live, live
One-two, one-two
One-two, one-two
One-two, one-two
Broadcastin live on W.K.Y. — A., it’s Sa-Dog in the place and uhh
(Yo, it’s Funk Doc in the place and uhh)
Yo, yo, get prepared for the double-homicidal, spit reality
So rare got you thinkin it’s from another galaxy
Opened a whole bottle of throttle, WHOOP-ASS
Then with one blast, I’m spillin your Mas Clamato
Hang out the black Tahoe, animated like John Bravo
With four fingers stuck in the five hole
Of any given chickenhead, ridin shotgun
I took a lesson from Knockboots, (??) popped 'em
It’s Doc place your bets, I’m live D-88 cassette
I’m down low, I don’t think me and my neighbors met (HI!)
Raisinette sized hoes in your Avirex
(You fall off) like inter-racial relationships
It’s, the rare mooley, can’t do nar' to me
Only kid in fifth grade with a infrared toolie
I’m hard-headed, check sun like Con-Eda
Sick flows stay ridin with the paramedics
I fuck bitches freaky like albino winos
With five hoes, high off of Tae-Bo fine flows
Paint pictures, so scary
That motherfuckers say Sauk you spittin obituaries
Not verses but viruses, get it?
The mic is like pussy tight and I’m paid to hit it
(You know you did it) I get the dough (Nigga switch your flow)
I’m the real jiggalo, nigga you’re Deuce Bigalow
Temporary, switchin like the seasons change
My team rearrange and bring a whole decade of rain
I bite through steel, with these jaws of, life
Get rocked when Doc and Sauk is on the, mic
Broads used to say Redman, don’t listen to him
Now they whipped cause I’m in the bed, kissin on Kim
Hips, guerilla my color my nail and my skin
Dipped in hair so get bears to box 'em in
With (GRRR) I’m the D, similar to Michigan
I’m hittin the pussy, y’all babysittin them
That’s why hoes wanna, flatten my Michelins
In front of my house with, fuck you signs picketin
Punkin out to a fight dog? It ain’t us
Clean my teeth and Timberlands with the same brush
I stretch your body out like Jack Lalanne does
O.J. attitude, Doc carry the same gloves
Remember me, Doc’s Da Name?
Brick City, T-Dot, padlock the game
If it reigns then it’s Doc and big Sauk to blame
Herbie Hancock MC’s — ROCKIN IT
We be kickin your ass. on W.K.Y.A
We be kickin your ass. on W.K.Y.A
Say do it feel good to ya? (WHAT?)
Say do it feel good to ya? (Wait a minute!)
Say do it feel good to ya? (WHAT?)
Yo. exclusive on W.K.Y.A
Hey DJ. DJ. DJ. my DJ slice the one and two
My hip-hop union’s all in favor of cuttin you
My aphrodis' fo' scheez found a slut in you
Soon as I find a frame strong enough to cut for two
I’m overstoked plus I’m airin dudes
With metaphors sicker than microwaved airplane food
I dare take two pulls, off the blunt that Red rolled
With head full of mari-when-I-bury-one
Wack nigga chasin the clout thing
Tryin to out bling (bling) I knocks him out ring
Yo E TURN IT UP if niggas is doubtin
Bout to bust, when it blows, we movin without him
Sauk, watch my two arms drop bombs on they entourage
Fuck you, the beef we love to jump it off
Don’t matter what hood Doc stompin on
Look what I done to dog, bumba claat
Fucked up in the trunk of his aunt garage
He thought I clap guns, but my guns applaud
Fuck the guns, my palm is up to guard
Whether I live or die is up to God
Guerilla tactics, way I, fuck a broad
Robbin me? You might be, up in yours
Hospital with a IV, stuck in arm
To finish off, it might be, (??)
(Watch your back) or better yet, watch you front
Watch you die, over this cheap watch you want
Here it is! The shells of a shotty comin
So next time I get stuck, it’s accupunct'