Coolio - 2 Minutes 21 Seconds Of Funk Lyrics
Yeah, yeah***** all these niggazYou know what Im talkin about winoYeah, yeah, yeahTwo minutes and twenty-one seconds of funkAnd I aint no punkThats right, thats rightA tisket a tasketThats all you ask itSnap your cd and drop the pieces in your casketLike little jack horna, Im still bendin cornasBuckin shots on your block, Im sippin on coronasUh, your mcdonald had a farm wit a six-fo on suicideSittin in the barn wit no alarmStraight up collected it, cool and calmCrowbar in my hand and my skeleton brick still works like a charmWhos the rawest?My shit is flawlessHad to be passin out bruises,Lacerations and broken jawsesEmcees wanna floss you better understand whos the bossBefore I do a michael jackson and cut your shit off!Part of the penitentary still, penetratin your grillI keep on keepin it right, while you keep on keepin it realIll bring the treble and the bass to delapatate your waistCoolios on the case, get yo hoe out my face, foolLodi dodi, I dont know karate, but I know a razorAnd none of yall cant fade meI know you wanna try to play meAnd bustas wanna playa hate meIm one of the dopest niggaz out iGuess thats why they hate meCause I slang hits like niggaz slang caviI remain like khakis, I guess thats why they mad at meOn a record you might outgat meBut you cant outrap meMy shit is fattaAnd yo shit need a little bit mo battaFreestyle in unrestricted manner or methodFree funk text readily selected, so check itUh, ? dip diver? , socializer, Ive been rockinThese mother*****in microphones since nineteen seventy-niner,And by the time that this little nappy head nigga retireIma be at the ripe ol age of forty-eight or forty-ninerMy shit is wise, cpt m.c. for hireMy name aint rick james but Ill burn your ass with a fireSo, whats your desire baby love?Is it hands wrapped around micsOr fingers wrapped around triggas?Eitha way it go Im dumpin and Im dippinStill tennis shoe pimpin, 40 thevz in positionFee-fi-fo-fum, now nigga Im a giantAnd yo ass is like jack,But yo magic beans is wackSkills is what you lackIm like a benz, you aint even like cadillacYou mo like a regalIma pit bull, and yous a beagleIm set to strangle hangin emcees at all anglesAs their legs start to dangle,Dance around everybody like mr. bo janglesLos angeles, compton, long beach, and carson hawthorneLivin with the wattsIm sendin out shout outsI used to drink ol goldNow I just strollStraight to the ? exit? section of my neighborhood liquor storeHuh, and you know what make me laugh, *****?Even your mama want my autograph, autograph, autograph,Autograph, autograph
