| Hey yo Funke wake up!
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| Huh?
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| Turn your radio up!
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| What?!
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| It’s us!
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| It’s US?!
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| Yeah listen to the cut!
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| It’s our style!
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| Our style?
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| Your style
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| Stop brother
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| Aiyyo nigga wake up, «let me show you some-thin!»
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| Listen to the way they flip the metaphors and phrases
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| Listen, listen, it’s drivin me CRA-ZY
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| Cause everytime I do a style and flip it kind of simple
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| Brothers say, «That's fat,» and do it on the demo
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| From a demo to a promo now a hit on the radio
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| Next thing you know, they’ll be doing our video
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| Same one?
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| Same one! |
| Concepts, whole nine
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| And crazy similarities to the whole rhyme
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| I’m not worried though (why?) I’m flippin hits from the grill
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| And in the underground only real stays real, so umm
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| Check the skills, the skills are kinda ill and yo
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| Here Come the Lords, cause we’re here to make a kill!
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| (Here Come the Lords) 7X
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| Aiyyo, Marley!
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| Aiyyo whassup knocka?
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| Do you hear these suckas tryin to clock the Lord Chief Rocka
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| Yeah I hear em, they’re just a bunch of clones on your bone
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| Hold up, I’m tryin to figure out where could they get my style from
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| Aiyyo wait a minute, remember the tape you shopped around a while back?
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| Yo what, wasn’t that your boys?
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| Now they got our stuff down pat!
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| Yo man don’t sweat it, just show em why they call you Mr. Funke
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| Yo Lord Jazz, pass me some of that Brass Brass Monkey
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| Here Come the Lords, Here Come the Lords, Mr. Funke don’t you see me?
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| I told you we were comin, you suckas didn’t believe me
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| The Skipper, my Lords style stick like Jack the Ripper
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| I’m hangin other rappers like your girl hangs on my zipper
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| Lord Jazz, hit me one time, make it funky
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| Stop being stingy knocka, pass that Brass Monkey
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| I step, off a stage, everyone knows, who I am
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| Grab the mic like Teddy Riley and I _Jam_ (chicka, aawww, Jam)
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| Give me the mic and watch me wax that ass *horn sample*
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| Keep the camera moving cause I’m kinda fast *horn sample*
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| You can trip, you can flip, you could even slip or dip
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| But you’ll never ever rip, Funke style as good as this
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| Because you sound like you’re drugged, you might as well be a singer
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| Your whimsy couldn’t touch me if your name was Sticky Fingaz
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| So when I come around, don’t try to be down, don’t try to be down
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| Just dig the sound, cause here comes the Lords of the Underground
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| (Here Come the Lords) 7X
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| Well umm, open up the doors and yell, Here Come the Lords
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| Yell it loud yell it loud, let me hear it from a crowd
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| I packs em, _In the Closet_ like Michael Jackson
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| And love to hear the girls go OOH when I’m rockin
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| So catch it, no stutter in my flow but I wrecks it
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| And caught you on the dillz from my jam called _Check It_
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| Check it check it check it check it microphone check it
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| Yeah, you went wild, cause your moms digs my records
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| So come on, I’m takin you where the sun don’t shine
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| The underground, but everything is fine
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| I rhyme, copacetic, unless it gets hectic
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| Your vocal chords’ll get CRACKED, you gets no chloraseptic
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| So hit em, so chill, chill man chill
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| I know who used to be but now who’s _Top Bill_
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| Well it’s me, and yes, I am back by the Funke
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| Marley filled the House with Hits so you know The Lords are chunky
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| We stink, like pee-eww, funk from my shoe
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| But what about this funk, can two brothers like us do
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| But get down like James Brown and rock the whole town
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| Hah! |
| And now The Lords have broke ground
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| (Here Come the Lords) 7X
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| (Here Come the Lords) 7X |