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Verse one:So you wanna be hardcoreWith your hat to the back, talkin bout the gats in your rapsBut I can't feel that hardcore appealThat you're screamin, baby I'm dreaminThis ain't christopher williams, still someMc's got to feel one, caps I got to peel someTo let niggaz know... that if you fuck with big-and-heavyI get up in that ass like a wedgieSays who? says me, the lyricalNiggaz sayin, biggie off the street, it's a miracleLeft the drugs alone, took the thugs along with meJust for niggaz actin shiftySticks and stones break bones, but the gat'll kill you quickerEspecially when I'm drunk off the liquorSmokin funk by the boxes, packin glocks isNatural to eat you niggaz like chocolatesThe funk babyChorus (repeats 8x)I live for the funk, I'll die for the funk (lotug, chief rocka)Verse two:All I want is bitches, big booty bitchesUsed to sell crack, so I could stack my richesNow I pack gats, to stop all the snitchesFrom stayin in my business, what is this? relentlessApproach, to know if I'm broke or notJust cause I joke and smoke a lotDon't mean I don't tote the glockSixteen shots for my niggaz in the penUntil we motherfuckin meet againHuh, I'm doin rhymes now, fuck the crimes nowCome on the ave, I'm real hard to find nowCause I'm knee deep in the beatsIn the land cruiser jeep with the mac-10 by the seatsFor the jackers, the jealous ass crackers in the (car sirens)I'll make you prove that it's bulletproofHold ya head, cause when you hit the bricksI got gin, mad blunts, and bitches suckin dickThe funk babyRepeat chorusVerse three:So I guess you know the story, the rap-side, crack-sideHow I smoked funk, smacked bitches on the backsideBed-stuy, the place where my head restsFifty shot clip if a nigga wan' testThe rocket launcher, biggie stomped yaHigh as a motherfuckin helicopterThat's why I pack a nina, fuck a misdeameanorBeatin motherfuckers like ike beat tina[what's love, got to do]When I'm rippin all through your whole crewStrapped like bamboo, but I don't sling gunsI got bags of funk, and it's sellin by the tonsNiggaz wanna know, how I live the mack lifeMaking money smoking mics like crack pipesIt's type simple and plain to maintainI add a little funk to the brainThe funk babyRepeat chorus
Verse one:So you wanna be hardcoreWith your hat to the back, talkin bout the gats in your rapsBut I can't feel that hardcore appealThat you're screamin, baby I'm dreaminThis ain't christopher williams, still someMc's got to feel one, caps I got to peel someTo let niggaz know... that if you fuck with big-and-heavyI get up in that ass like a wedgieSays who? says me, the lyricalNiggaz sayin, biggie off the street, it's a miracleLeft the drugs alone, took the thugs along with meJust for niggaz actin shiftySticks and stones break bones, but the gat'll kill you quickerEspecially when I'm drunk off the liquorSmokin funk by the boxes, packin glocks isNatural to eat you niggaz like chocolatesThe funk babyChorus (repeats 8x)I live for the funk, I'll die for the funk (lotug, chief rocka)Verse two:All I want is bitches, big booty bitchesUsed to sell crack, so I could stack my richesNow I pack gats, to stop all the snitchesFrom stayin in my business, what is this? relentlessApproach, to know if I'm broke or notJust cause I joke and smoke a lotDon't mean I don't tote the glockSixteen shots for my niggaz in the penUntil we motherfuckin meet againHuh, I'm doin rhymes now, fuck the crimes nowCome on the ave, I'm real hard to find nowCause I'm knee deep in the beatsIn the land cruiser jeep with the mac-10 by the seatsFor the jackers, the jealous ass crackers in the (car sirens)I'll make you prove that it's bulletproofHold ya head, cause when you hit the bricksI got gin, mad blunts, and bitches suckin dickThe funk babyRepeat chorusVerse three:So I guess you know the story, the rap-side, crack-sideHow I smoked funk, smacked bitches on the backsideBed-stuy, the place where my head restsFifty shot clip if a nigga wan' testThe rocket launcher, biggie stomped yaHigh as a motherfuckin helicopterThat's why I pack a nina, fuck a misdeameanorBeatin motherfuckers like ike beat tina[what's love, got to do]When I'm rippin all through your whole crewStrapped like bamboo, but I don't sling gunsI got bags of funk, and it's sellin by the tonsNiggaz wanna know, how I live the mack lifeMaking money smoking mics like crack pipesIt's type simple and plain to maintainI add a little funk to the brainThe funk babyRepeat chorus
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