Its Funk Doc
Where da weed at, bitch?!
I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops
See thas shit?! Believe thas shit!
Slaughter straight to camcorder, Im too hot for t.v.
Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to
Project-ballers
You yell: "Turn the heat down!"
My voice, divi-di-round-sound,
some heard round town
And chances are yall leavin, round now
Wait later, will make Funk page paper
Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders
Hit the High School at 187 Caesar
When I bust yall need to back 4 acres
Doc yall and thats my man JabberJaw
The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?
Im from the underground, my soundlib
Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!
GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP
JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
Yo BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE OUT,
EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YALL FEEL IT!
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
Now Im the streettalkin, dogwalkin
Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU FORCIN?
My hand that rock yo cradle often Im hot-scorchin,
but stone cold like Steve Austin
If you smell what Tical cookin,
aint tryin to see central bookin
So til ya gon stop lookin, know what you did last
summer?
So I started hookin, you past shookin
Offer open can of ass-whoopin?
Aint no tomorrows in the Methods Little Shop Of
Horrors
Go ask your father who the father from the (Park)Hill
to (Mariners)Harbor
You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and Goldschlager
With deadly medley, yall aint ready for Shakwon and
Reggie
Dont even bother, to radio for back-up
Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for his
icin
Streetlife is triflin *Body over here...!
Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga ear
Precisin, slicin juggerless the cut-crew
Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera
Peoples champ, niggaz be takin off competetors
Reachin for the microphone, relax and light a bone
Straight from the Catacombs
The Children Of The Corn, that dont got a clue
Prepare for desert storm!
I scored 1.1 on my SAT
And still push a whip with a right and left AC
Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called
Im behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars
Spit poison, got a gun permit draw
Gundown at Sundown you keep score!
This training-course and yall aint fit
On my crew-tombstone put We All Aint Shit
Yo, all you gonna be, wanna be When will you learn?
Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn
I spit a .41 Revolver on New Years Eve
With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.s
The most slept on since Rip Van Wink
My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc
So what you think? Im a blackout on just one drink?
You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe
Go get a shrink...
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