Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Funky Rhythms, artist - Dred Scott. Date of issue: 03.12.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Funky Rhythms |
| So watch the kid fly through the atmosphere |
| When I’m rocking up a party, yo, I feel no fear |
| I be the one with the funk I kick |
| Yo I gets on the mic and says something sick |
| I give a «la-di-da-di yes yes y’all» |
| I seen your granny doing backflips at the mall |
| And at the party I’m the killa dilla jerk a fool and blast |
| Like a pissed off post office worker |
| But you must understand that I’m just having fun |
| Like Sanford and Son cause I feel swell |
| When I bust my nut off when I’m on the DL |
| A fucking midget with his legs cut off |
| Can’t get lower than me when I shake my funk |
| A brother with style and I ain’t no punk |
| Like Nat, I’m a king that’s Cole as ice |
| Double teaming me because you know I’m twice as nice |
| So check it out y’all |
| Rappers be selling out like tickets to a championship fight |
| But hold tight, I’m the motivator with the right |
| Stuff, I keep it rough while you huff and puff, so save the bluff |
| Cause I ain’t even trying to hear that stuff |
| I kick black facts over fat tracks that Dred packs |
| Peace to Freaknasty and the rest of my cats |
| Where’s the axe? |
| I want to cut a rapper in half |
| And laugh, dissect his whole steelo |
| Used to be high, so I chopped him down to be low |
| Put him to the side like a cop does a kilo |
| I’m raw, I funk you up and down like a see saw |
| To be more than a racist pig named Limbaugh |
| You see, cause I be the mad verbal doctor |
| Check my resume, I’m at the top of the roster |
| For your listening pleasure… |
| I gots to be the prodigy, you know I be vocalizing |
| Earlying in the morning while you’re yawning |
| Here comes the pain, let it rain like thunder |
| Cause I be the true overlord of the under |
| Breaking chumps like old Tupperware |
| Stepping up smooth Dred with my savoir fare |
| Imperial funklord, cause I be the freaker |
| So funky you think I farted down your speaker |
| Like a dozen rotten eggs, kid, I’m taking no shorts |
| Not even for my skinny legs |
| The renegade with the ill vernacular, I bring the drama |
| I get loose just like the lips on Madonna |
| My flow is all around, and yours is like a |
| Bucket over there that broke down |
| I would have given you a ride if you had let me know |
| That you had to hitchhike |
| Just like I’m going to pass you the mic right now |
| Awww, bitch, sike |
| With the beat kicking back, yo I like that snare |
| On the microphone cause my style is rare |
| And the rest of the world ain’t heard that shit before |
| I’m on the microphone, I slam just like a door |
| BOOM! |
| And it shuts while I kick the dust |
| I’m on the microphone flowing and I can’t… (fades out) |