| Elliot beeswax
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| Alcaphunk
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| No artificial flavors
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| Alias b maximus
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| A/K/A no additive preservatives
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| So get out my funk
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| Get of my funk
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| I’d watch out
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| For this is the season
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| Of the Chrome syndrome
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| Quite nonchalantly, my name is Kokane
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| I got the nickel sack of that potent rap crap
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| Almighty Jah, thank you for the buddha
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| But if you know this corp? |
| doin coke
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| Then I suggest that you can
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| Rolla-rolla feds on upon you know
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| Yo, my name is Kokane not Adee Do
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| So overfill an piss a funkaholic in my kizup?
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| You wanna see me vomit, or should I say throw up
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| Throw up style, never hold a damn thing back
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| I just had to re-up, and now I got the fat sacks
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| It’s like 'Tini and Rossi, but don’t mix
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| Bend over bitch and I’mma stick it with the quickness
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| A-ha, a-ha, you got the right one, baby
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| Say Mr. stucky lucky but I really don’t wanna maybe
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| But baby, but baby, don’t mean no harmin'
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| So I just skip to the lou, skip to the lou
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| Skip to the lou my darling
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| Now I bet you got mo' water upstairs
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| Than you got sugar on a candy cane
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| Where’d you get your funk from? |
| (Repeat)
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| Now I come from the West, Cali-funk-i-a
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| You say, 'Let me borrow this style
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| We gotta pay you back on Tuesday'
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| You look like a base-head, see
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| 'Cause my style is the cavi, so try another cookie
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| Yo, I think that East battle West is like dumb
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| And play my fuckin' video
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| It don’t matter what coast I come from
|
| Three-wheel wicked, Chevy Impala
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| It’s time to pick up a honey dip
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| And rent a room at the Ramada
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| After flauntin' my words I leave crush
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| Took of the gears and time to have sex
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| I’m all in them skins like bam bam
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| So won’t you play like Red Hot Chili Peppers and
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| Give it away, give it away, give it away, give it away, give it away now
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| Give it away, give it away, give it away now
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| She said 'Death do us part?', I said 'Whatever'
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| Know I’m all in them p-u double crooked letters
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| There’s a lot of MC who need to get smoked, fool
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| 'Cause you got a gang of baking soda in ya dope
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| Talkin' 'bout you did drive-bys out your Regal
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| Kill a thousand niggas on one maxi-single
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| No, nope, not, not, the style don’t fit
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| And you swear that your motherfuckin' ass is the shit |