Текст (слова) песни: Common Sense - Food for Funk

Common:
What yo yo yo yo yo
Yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
Check it yo
You say a one for the trouble two for the time
Come on y`all let`s rock that uh
(I can feel the funk)(x4)
Check it
I come to grips with mics
I come to grips that a lot of mic users is dikes
I come to grips with the likes of Fred Hampton
Cold so I`m lampin with no need for spotlight
When I got light like an intersection, you talk
But you came to my town with protection
Election year, had the block hot
I scream "fuck the world" for having a baby girl sorta cock block
I write rhymes like I come from the windy city
With my crew, I click like simply, stand midi with reality
Casually, I walk through these war games
Some claim say but then they take on whore names
If that`s the way your sex drives, stay in your lane
If you`re a man, I can`t tell like if the door rang now
Chorus:
Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place
It ain`t a bunch of niggaz all up in your face
The music is thumpin and you`re feelin the bass
What you wanna do girl(wanna shout)
To the brothas when you come in a jam, it ain`t a bunch of niggaz
It ain`t high tech and ain`t got free liquor
You jackin his name and stick to make you jones get thicker
What you wanna do man?(let go)
Yo, check it
Some niggaz be on the mic, sounding like dikes
Allow me to get on and bust like Spike(uh)
Lee, I`m in the majors with no rotation
Through stations of bullshit, I see through like a pager
In the age of Aquarius, various things
Is gonna carry us in intellect and what have you
Street astrologists interpret point stars and half moons
Then end up on garages or walls in bathrooms
Every black moon, a rap tune move me
The rap sun, I rain more than Rudy, that unruly shit is played
It don`t stop
It`s time to get it, get it made
I got my mind made up like Foxy Brown`s face
I know how the underground tastes
I want a crib from the ground up, rooms spin at a round pace
Get down based on true story, through Corey, came close to the
teachers
Colder as the Iceman, posted before it start wrinklin
Linkin with cats, who don`t react to change in the years
Fulfill prophesies in rooms full of emptiness, now
Chorus:
I can feel the funk(x8)
Yo, check it, check it
I came through the corridor, with the aura
Raw Chicago mora, scope the horror
Read between the lines and know the border
Some pop wines for juice, I wait in the water
Waitin for you Big Willie niggaz to have a show at The Crib
We gon get with your glamour, long as we know where it is
Tell you ain`t a player by your sweater doused with wack feather
The Crib got the gangsta playa shit patent like black leather
I rap better than you, you, or maybe him
But I am like a tree and every lyric is a timb
Spilled brews and greasy foods got my car smelly
Some be so high, they believe they fly like R. Kelly
But then they fall off, dusted niggaz is gettin sawed off
They fall soft, my mental lift is for me to haul off
I kick ass
Chorus:
(scratching)
I can feel the funk(x16)(makes me wanna shout, wanna shout)(x4)
(scratching)Wanna shout

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Меню » Главная » Музыка » Правила » В избранное	Музыка RU: 0-9 А Б В Г Д Е Ж З И К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Э Ю Я EN: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Текст (слова) песни: Common Sense - Food for Funk Common: What yo yo yo yo yo Yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo Check it yo You say a one for the trouble two for the time Come on y`all let`s rock that uh (I can feel the funk)(x4) Check it I come to grips with mics I come to grips that a lot of mic users is dikes I come to grips with the likes of Fred Hampton Cold so I`m lampin with no need for spotlight When I got light like an intersection, you talk But you came to my town with protection Election year, had the block hot I scream "fuck the world" for having a baby girl sorta cock block I write rhymes like I come from the windy city With my crew, I click like simply, stand midi with reality Casually, I walk through these war games Some claim say but then they take on whore names If that`s the way your sex drives, stay in your lane If you`re a man, I can`t tell like if the door rang now Chorus: Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place It ain`t a bunch of niggaz all up in your face The music is thumpin and you`re feelin the bass What you wanna do girl(wanna shout) To the brothas when you come in a jam, it ain`t a bunch of niggaz It ain`t high tech and ain`t got free liquor You jackin his name and stick to make you jones get thicker What you wanna do man?(let go) Yo, check it Some niggaz be on the mic, sounding like dikes Allow me to get on and bust like Spike(uh) Lee, I`m in the majors with no rotation Through stations of bullshit, I see through like a pager In the age of Aquarius, various things Is gonna carry us in intellect and what have you Street astrologists interpret point stars and half moons Then end up on garages or walls in bathrooms Every black moon, a rap tune move me The rap sun, I rain more than Rudy, that unruly shit is played It don`t stop It`s time to get it, get it made I got my mind made up like Foxy Brown`s face I know how the underground tastes I want a crib from the ground up, rooms spin at a round pace Get down based on true story, through Corey, came close to the teachers Colder as the Iceman, posted before it start wrinklin Linkin with cats, who don`t react to change in the years Fulfill prophesies in rooms full of emptiness, now Chorus: I can feel the funk(x8) Yo, check it, check it I came through the corridor, with the aura Raw Chicago mora, scope the horror Read between the lines and know the border Some pop wines for juice, I wait in the water Waitin for you Big Willie niggaz to have a show at The Crib We gon get with your glamour, long as we know where it is Tell you ain`t a player by your sweater doused with wack feather The Crib got the gangsta playa shit patent like black leather I rap better than you, you, or maybe him But I am like a tree and every lyric is a timb Spilled brews and greasy foods got my car smelly Some be so high, they believe they fly like R. Kelly But then they fall off, dusted niggaz is gettin sawed off They fall soft, my mental lift is for me to haul off I kick ass Chorus: (scratching) I can feel the funk(x16)(makes me wanna shout, wanna shout)(x4) (scratching)Wanna shout Нравится песня? Расскажи о ней друзьям: Прямая ссылка на текст песни Food for Funk: http://musworld.ru/music/eng/102/1/15230.html Все тексты песен: Common Sense » Common Sense - A Penny For My Thoughts » Common Sense - Sum Shit I Wrote » Common Sense - Maintaining » Common Sense - Thelonious » Common Sense - I`ve Been Thinking » Common Sense - Take It EZ » Common Sense - Communism » Common Sense - Heidi Hoe » Common Sense - Watermelon » Common Sense - A Film Called (Pimp) » Common Sense - The Bitch In Yoo » Common Sense - Soul By the Pound 12", Resurrection 12" » Common Sense - Communism » Common Sense - The Remedy » Common Sense - Just in the Nick of Rhyme » Common Sense - Can I Borrow a Dollar? » Common Sense - Soul By the Pound » Common Sense - Sum Shit I Wrote » Common Sense - Chapter 13 (Rich Man Vs. Poor Man) » Common Sense - Resurrection Рекомендуем скачать: » Ольга Левковская - Людям, которых нет » Облачный край, Сергей Богаев - Ублюжья доля » Олег Митяев - По будним дням ложится спать она довольно рано... » Олег Газманов - Эскадрон » Олег Газманов - Друг » Олег Щетников - Оптимистическая песня » Олег Куприев - Когда замыкается круг » Облачный край, Сергей Богаев - Ублюжья доля » Ольга Запрудина - Песнь о голодных тараканах » Олег Митяев - Ну, как я уеду » Олег Коваленко - Междугородный роман » Олег Медведев - Солнце (...а смысла не было) » Олег Лубягин - Aere perennius » Ольга Арефьева (Ковчег) - Не в такт » Ольга Афраймович - Сад (песня) » Ольга Запрудина - Детство » Олег Задорожный - Еще я вижу бездну и в обрыв... » Олег Раков - Монолог сумасшедшего помещенного в желтый дом по поводу клептомании » Олег Митяев - За Полярным кругом снег... » Олег Соболев - Сорвались ногти, сорвались рукти...
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