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Oh yes I'm new and improved, and to a funky-ass groove |
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My name is Quik and I'm smooth, and I'm makin yo' ugly ************* move |
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With the streets you can't lose, but if you still wanna choose |
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To be a sucka, I got a 380 punk, so duck her |
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And to you mother******s thinkin' you wanna fade me? |
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I'm runnin' the underground, so fool, you're crazy |
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And you better step, 'fore I beat you with a switch |
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And tie you up and make you watch, while I'm ******' yo' ************* |
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'Cause I'm a low-pro ************* that you should not fol-low |
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Puttin' suckaz in the wind cause my voice is hol-low |
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Put the pistol to your grill and your punk ass rolls |
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You grab my *************t and I pull the trigger now you're missin' a nose |
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And umm, I don't fear your crew because my back is got |
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Chasin' nothin' but the suckaz when we hit yo' spot |
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Yeah, straight Bronx Killa, mark ass *************z can't check me |
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But gotta respect me, 'cause I'm Way 2 Fonky |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, yeah |
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Now no sooner than I hit the ******' streets |
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People be approachin' me, all throughout the swap meets |
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Askin' me *************t like, when your new album comin' out? |
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is it different? is it ****? Where yo' perm? What you talkin' 'bout? |
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I know you don't expect that a ************* gon' quit |
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Bein' nothin' less than funky and bangin' out the ****-ass hits |
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'Cause DJ-Quik is a name that I take much much pride in |
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No ego's to hide in and no limos to ride in |
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Maybe a cutlass or two, but still the same ol' *************t |
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And me unclever? No never, I'll have this talent forever |
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The producer get funky down to the last ounce |
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And I'm creative too so I don't need mo' bounce |
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But to you suckaz in my city claimin' I got a def wish |
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You should try again fool, you ain't hittin' near this |
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Them wack ass tracks, make you sound like a monkey |
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Just a shot in the dark, from a punk-ass mark who ain't fonky |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, yeah |
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Now when you records ain't that funky then it's easy to disrespect this |
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'Cause you know that when I hit I didn't miss |
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Just like that I'm born and raised, you wish you could fade |
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And when you picked up that album cover you knew I was paid, Tim |
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Cause we ain't goin' out and we ain't stuck in that old school *************t |
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That boring flavor that just don't hit |
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Cause this is ninety-two, and yes yo' style is through |
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And if your record ain't sellin' well fool I thought you knew |
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That this is straight Bronx Killa, straight Bronx Murda |
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Yeah yo' city's a dump, and fool yo' *************t don't bump |
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And 'member the jack the rapper? yeah, your punk ass sat |
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That's when my homeboy d, was bout to flatten yo' cap |
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And you apologized to him, started kissin' his ass |
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Sayin' you only dissed Compton for the money |
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So he gave you a pass but you ain't movin' *************t on the streets |
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Get off the nuts of my city with them wack ass beats that ain't fonky |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop |
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Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop |