Lyrics East Coast Funk - Daddy-O

East Coast Funk

Now do you wanna start this?
Well I don’t think you do
If we was in L.A. boy, a martyr’s what they’d call you
But since we’re on the East coast, I’ll just say ya punk
A little nuttin ass frontin ass nigga poppin junk
You can say this beat’s, a little somethin for you to ride to
I might be kickin your hyde too, so watch it where you step
This is deep fried funk, like the chicken in the chop
Chorus:
East coast is funky, so funky
So parlay to the Daddy-O funk
East coast is funky, so funky
So parlay to the Daddy-O funk
Now this ain’t Oaktown, it’s New York son
But the funk still flows like it does with Ant Banks and Spice 1
Takin no prisoners, makin sure I come off
Cause iffin I don’t, niggas think I’m goin soft
I had to come back strong, cause it was quiet on the Stet
So I’m givin you a taste of how funky I can get
Kickin a do-re-mi-fa-suck-my-
Twelve cuts on the LP, so what’s your pick?
And if you can’t take it, then back up off my ego
Gimme a break, or just let a nigga know
So when you start askin me, who got the props?
I grew up po', and the streets were rough
And when times were hard, a nigga had to get tough
So when I was broke, I had to take to the street
Ten and twenty deep, duckin from the heat
East packin no chrome, cause it shines in the dark
Only black steel as I roll through the park
People said I was mean, I was doin what I had to
Needed some dough, I wouldn’t hesitate to rob you
And I might get stopped by the cops
Ripped of my props and I might get locked
But I don’t care, at least I ain’t concerned
And if this is a lesson then I guess I gotta learn
But I ain’t goin out like a sap
Cause if they lock me up you best to think I’m comin back
Grabbin my gun, and as the hammer gets cocked