| Yeah, bout to fly that knot
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| Redman, Keith Murray, Erick Sermon with the, Cosmic Slop
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| And we all pack Glocks
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| Word is Bond, word is bond
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| Fuck around and get shot
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| As I flip, skip to the beat, on wax, and tax
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| I react with tons of macs, a ball, and some jumping jacks
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| Flyin expert, puttin in work
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| No question, cosmic funk and weed session
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| Like GangStarr, step up, it’s Hard to Earn
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| But I change up the mode, and blow up the globe
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| The bandit, spittin dialect umm (UMMM)
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| Catchin wreck umm (UMMM)
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| One two micraphone check (UMMM)
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| Attention passenger’s we’re on a non-central journey
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| To Hell and beyond
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| FUNKADELIC DROP THE BOMB!
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| Boo-yaa!
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| I’m that type of nigga to give it to ya
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| My Cosmic Slop rules all blocks with funk maneuvers
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| My flow freeze the Nile, The Funk Child splits the river
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| Then I crush, like the bom-ba-zee was rushed, through my verbal lust
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| I’m spaced out, I LOST MY MIND ON CLOUD 19
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| VISINE FOR EYES, when I blow Alpines
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| Dial 9, 0−0, For the hero of the wierdos
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| I hope my brain don’t bust
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| Transform into a 7−11 Slurpie Slush
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| IT’S THE FLY, My music will burn eyes
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| Twice the chemical of Clorox
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| Then I do an autopse on four cops
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| When my jaws drop, ock, I fidget my nuts alot
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| Got the two Glocks, with oowops then bodies trace the chalk
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| I’m like an eclipse on a Friday, the 13th
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| With black cats and Haley’s Comet, blazin blunts in my driveway
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| Nostradamus predicted, for you funk fiends
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| That Def Squad will get the fuckin cream like Noxzema
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| For those that remember pics and afros (it's on like that)
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| Platform shoes and bell-bottoms some got em
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| Spaced out, way out, is what I’m talkin about
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| In the Cosmic Slop of the Ghetto
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| Zuzuzuzuzu, zuzuzu, zuzu zuzu zuzu
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| Zu zuzu, zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu
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| With amazing manifestations, I dictate to nations
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| More Cosmic Funk innovations in my creation
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| This Cosmic sick mic cylcicyst
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| Mega segments, be Sega, like Genesis
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| I orbits the solar system, listenin
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| Guzzlin, never sippin, or slippin and sympin when the track is rippin
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| I gotcha brain cells bendin and twistin
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| Man listen, I give your whole crew an acid drenching
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| Just for mentionin, goin that route, runnin yo mouth
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| You get your head smacked off towards down South
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| And your crew too will be spaced out
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| Way out, no doubt, y’all niggas need to stop
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| And get with this Cosmic Slop
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| (Cosmic Slop, Cosmic Slop)
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| And now, we program, we program
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| Pop in the disk and who the hell is this? |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cosmic Slop , by - Redman. Song from the album Dare Iz A Darkside, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп