back to the old P Funkadelic get the fuck outta here, word? Remember that old cut you did? Yeah, yeah That ol' P funk cut? Yeah, make my funk the P funk Yeah, yeah, that's
wit the chinchilla swooshes Anyway that's some other shit; And it's a shame I'm so filthy now my great grand daughter mother rich P to the B see, I'm
called the special request Oakland, you know I go way back To coug nuts, fal stangs, and cadillac's When homeboys put vogues on any car With 6 by 9's
Say it, say it like Pac the police Fuck 'em, and that's straight from the underground Where little kids got it bad 'cause we brown Now who am I? P-Monch
Respect We Pullin Out Dem Tecs Man I Got Dem Mac's Man I got Dem K's And I Got Dem Nine's And I Got Dem A's R-15's And Dem 22-Trey's Player Wanna Ride
Yo, you taste a tea-spoon, 300 goons, stash balloons Locked in lab rooms, hit with glock, stashed in Grant's tomb Clocked him like a patient, his stock's
, let's go Calling all cars, calling all cars Be on the lookout someone has stolen the D.J. Agent F.P. get on the case immediately Let's, let's go
diggy bomb you see Now it's Nore now in the fuckin' driver's seat Yo I shot rapid, burn weed inside a back quick Iraq embassy need a straitjacket Yo let's
[Verse 1: Styles P] (*Floetry) (I'm Black!!!)Whether I'm poor or rich or rich or poor its all the same shit (I'm Black!!!) Even though my skins kind of
Uhh now check it underground verbal hip hop you selected by only a few this type of artist is bought so like Bartles & James thank you for your support it's
I could get away from this place of hell and fakes But it might be too late What it gonna be D-E-A-D Another S-T-A-T-I-S-T-I-C that's me Puffin that
keep a vest with me,And iA'mma ride A'til i rest in peace (Yukmouth) Makaveli rest in peace,All these wannabeA's like Master p all these niggaz screaminA
time get's deepa as you meat the Grim reapa in the form of a man double M 24 5 got your brains leaking I'm peakin That's why these nigga wanna rip keep
mobile phone, it's U.G.K. Pimp C said, "P, what's really goin on?" I said what's really happenin, he said, "I gotta pocket full of stones!" Now P be dat
Z's Know what's in the dungaree's a hundred G's It's a homicide, homi, homi, homicide It's a homicide, homi, homi, homicide It's a homicide, someone
found my killer So I jumped up out this grave like Michael Jackson in thriller Iller than most emcee's cause I be killin' 'em Most emcee's turn into ghost emcee's
the ladies TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES let me see them thongs now touch your toes All the playas throw your hands in the sky girls, drink and weed let's party
you to sleep No bull-essin, dirty ass Mac 11's keep spittin Killers they cheat *?that they ass?* Punk one-times gaffle to my homey Tiny T's battle ground 187's, 211's