| Yeah, Tashan, Dorrsett
|
| Come correct
|
| We got Junkadelic in the house
|
| New York City
|
| Paris, France
|
| I’m writin two millimeters above level
|
| Three centimeters above devil, you know the spot
|
| Meet your face, I deal with the freckle, the right check-o
|
| Any time on the table promoters head to the back
|
| before they show, I gotta settle
|
| Party down, park the Bacardi down
|
| Stack Atari sound, I’m revved up at 100 point 1
|
| I’m sorry Charlie the crowd, geeked up on bottles of barley
|
| Don’t let them get off the Harley
|
| Above sea level, the first treble production remastered
|
| I’m more than you perpetual, I hope y’all on schedule
|
| The second chance’n; |
| you better believe
|
| the lyrics spin like the legs of a breakdancer
|
| First turn like a potential, meteorite burn
|
| You know how we do, with heavy EQ
|
| Mechanical nigga workin hard like R2-D2
|
| Star Wars, III Episode
|
| Move at red code with vitamins for a stuffed up nose
|
| and a head cold
|
| You see 'em swallowin on the bars of a head load
|
| They can’t handle my opposite jam selection
|
| No Michael «Jam» perfection
|
| I release atomic fibers at the end of every note
|
| like the urine stains hittin off your white coat
|
| I deal easy with this
|
| You witness the climax raw on the twister
|
| More higher my gold records hang on my walls like the Pointer Sisters
|
| The biggest elaborate funk, action for your trunk action
|
| It’s all the best, speakin the best, speakin from New York to Paris
|
| Junkadelic, eatin at the restaurant
|
| with Red Ron, we’re eatin salads |