Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Postmodern Funk , by - Scrooge. Release date: 25.06.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Postmodern Funk |
| It was all invented |
| Artists come, artists go |
| And groups disbanding |
| Music stranded |
| Gotta step in the scene |
| Like we da last men standing |
| Gotta hanging |
| Where’s the ending? |
| We’re still active |
| Understanding: |
| Modern was lame, dumb, ain’t no fun |
| So I gotta come up |
| With this postmodern funk, why not? |
| Don’t need no fame |
| I keep it real and maintain |
| Better stop the hate |
| And blame |
| Cause it’s my fate |
| I keep the high rates |
| It’s all about plates |
| And numbers on |
| Let the car go ride |
| So turned up right now |
| Watch how I rise and fight |
| For the good side |
| Don’t know why |
| I standing up at midnight |
| And rapping in a moonlight |
| But I |
| Gotta come up, gotta gotta come up |
| Man, I gotta come up |
| With this postmodern funk |
| You tryna give up, tryna tryna give up |
| Blaming the bad luck |
| «Excuse me, what?» |
| You betta stop, cause I tryna come up |
| I know that it’s hard, but I gotta come up |
| Gotta come up, gotta gotta come up |
| With this postmodern funk |
| We always looking back |
| But we could look further |
| Learn the lesson from these murders |
| Shootings of innocent people |
| Like in the music, society needs a rebuilding |
| Stop the killings, violence |
| Yo, wa, fucking murdera |
| Stay silent |
| I… bringing back the time |
| Full of style |
| When It was all good |
| It was alright, it was all fine |
| Don’t try to hide |
| G-Funk survived |
| Multiplied |
| And you have no roots, you in a brain skydive, |
| Push a needle to the groove and fly |
| So give me room, give me room |
| To let them fools know |
| How we turn on the lights |
| Who you fooling? |
| I’ll be cooling with my homies |
| Down the block |
| Wish I could turn back the clock |
| But it won’t stop |
| Gotta come up, gotta gotta come up |
| Man, I gotta come up |
| With this postmodern funk |
| You tryna give up, tryna tryna give up |
| Blaming the bad luck |
| «Excuse me, what?» |
| You betta stop, cause I tryna come up |
| I know that it’s hard, but I gotta come up |
| Gotta come up, gotta gotta come up |
| With this postmodern funk |
| I’m the last of a dying breed |
| They don’t make 'em like me |
| OG from the Eastside, 2−5-3 |
| I’m old-school like a Fleetwood Caddy |
| Hood legend from the block |
| Fuck a Grammy |
| I’m in my own lane, pedal to the floor |
| I give you everything you want |
| Plus a little more |
| I keep my head down low: |
| Ears to the street |
| Some can lead |
| I can do this shit in my sleep |
| Nigga |
| I was cut from the different cloth |
| Everyday all-day living like a boss |
| Fourteen-sevens on my Impala |
| Three-fifty barking like a rottweiler |
| It’s the shit we live and die for |
| What’s that the cycle |
| When niggas live in trifle |
| But mama didn’t raise no clown |
| I’ma real ass nigga |
| You know how I get down |