bastard Stop trying to shag the birds and fight the geezers Mines a Kronenberg mate The streets Who got the funk? Geezers geezers geezers Who got the funk
bastard Stop trying to shag the birds and fight the geezers Mine's a Kronenberg mate The streets Who gots the funk? Geezers, geezers, geezers Who gots the funk
Traduzione: The Streets. Chi Got The Funk?.
flip the clock up to '93 And watch me rock the clock nonstop constantly on MTV and BET whatever you want Hit these niggaz with that motherfucking cheese (G-Funk) Funk
for them ni**az that be Johnny Dangerous when they be f**kin fifty deep But they be f**kin cowards when they by theyselves You know who I'm talkin about (You know who
ain't got no mutha fuckin friends Thats why I fucked your bitch You fat mutha-fucka {Take Money} West Side Bad Boy Killers {Take Money} You know who the
bang, bang, duck quick I guess you rookies tough shit, cause you bust clips But suck dick Cause a kid got his cap pealed The rap deal, from the phonies who
cowards better be known Be approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin' No need for hopin', it's a battle lost I got em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin
[Yeah hehehahaha, we goin platinum nigga! Plaahahatinum.] Yeah, you got the Live Squad in this motherfucker We got my nigga Treach from Naughty by Nature
, the streets was callin I was often involved with niggaz breakin the law I look back Pac nigga, we was bankin off raw P Funk, got it pumpin, he had the
controlled, nigga So who's the bigger, who's the quickest killer? Would ya try to trip with my finger on the 9 milla When I got cha on kay-nine-fourths
leave no questions about who flip-whips the mic It's the pen blockrocker, no doubt to get you hype With the slide, slide shit to make you flip Got the
I stick it in while I'm talking on my mobe To a freak of the week who be scheming But she ain't knowing me and funk is down for the tag teaming Hooked
pump yo body full of lead an watch it swell up like we got no conscience. [Verse 7: Bart] Cuz it ain't no spraya like the one I got claimin you juss
got too many bitches in the Oakland streets Use for hide-outs when I sense the heat See, a murder ain't shit when a brother stays packin Loose on the streets
the back so soothin', The system is pumpin', Got the kids on the block bumpin'. Just chillin' with my girls it's sumthin', Got more funk in the trunk and it's funkin
havin this opportunity, for you and me to pass it on Two years ago, I thought it'd be my last song Me, Squeaky, Flex and J, on Saratoga Street Smokin
for it We keep it critical If you hard core spit it out, out, out, out Doc who be arousin' police My underground funk be plowin' the streets So if you
