| We packin' them Glock 19's with the beams when we on the scene
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| Billion got 'em buckin' blowin' clean off that triple beam with BHZ
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| Niggas hope with third world, niggas hope with the triads
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| The shit they fools burn is no tellin though
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| Queens mound in this bitch stay down with the click
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| Never turned the backs on backstabbers, now it’s super thick
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| Two lane, never lame, always been my fuckin' thugs
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| Ever since the school days, we never had nothin' but love
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| Smokin' sacks with my real, givin' packs to my trill
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| Paul Masson to my lung, for the ones that didn’t live
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| Get as high as ya can though but don’t let them drugs change ya
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| Get buck as you can fool but try to control the anger
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| Niggas gettin' on that white, things ain’t the same no mo’e
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| Used to kill for ya now it’s like I gotta kill ya hoe
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| Triple 6 got the shit, mane I make you niggas choke
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| Gangsta B Where you be? |
| Blow out a cloud of smoke
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| To my niggas on that white: Funky Town!
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| To my niggas on that yellow: Funky Town!
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| To my niggas on that green: Funky Town!
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| To my niggas on that loop: Funky Town!
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| I wanna send a shout-out to my niggas who be on that dope
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| Chillin' on a corner, shootin' that dice between the Indo smoke
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| Squad and big … and curt
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| Lil Blue …, all my niggas from my turf
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| What’s up to my niggas from the groove? |
| I ain’t forgot cha fool
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| Lil Glock and S.O.G, Harry T and Heavy C
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| Nigga Creep, back in the frayser days on cherry lane
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| Everybody kicked it like real playas with no type of gangs
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| Shootin' them thangs, now it’s '96, I gotta stay strapped
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| With my Smith & Wesson, eighteen shots cocked in my lap
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| Bulletproof vest on my chest, when it’s time to ride
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| Let’s take a trip to the North Memphis gangsta side
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| You can’t hide, neither can you run when a gun blast
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| Just another playa hater smoked in the aftermath
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| Bustas think we’re all rap, Three 6 Mafia plus a gat
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| It was plenty dead motherfuckers lyin' on they back
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| To my niggas on that blow: Funky Town!
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| To my niggas on that syrup: Funky Town!
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| To my niggas on that ink: Funky Town!
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| To my niggas on that fruity: Funky Town!
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| Choppin' these … just leave 'em all drippin' with then my artillery drenched
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| … these bitches, they (?) bleedin' to death in the rain
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| There’s no one who wishes to take on my Prophets of Doom … by my nuclear boom
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| The devilish shit in my brain made me visualize demons around in my room
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| Cause we rowdy (?) come to rumble, we full of the thunder, the
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| straight-to-the-dome
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| Do not disturb my patience when fillin' myself with the incense of (?)
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| Lemme burn up B-U-Ds, durk-a-durk up in the freeze
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| Triple 6 Mafia members of the Memphis has put down another LP
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| Scarecrow inhalin' the (?) and I mystically never get tired of inhalin' that
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| smoke out
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| Satanic sounds, Funky Town, come down, buck all hoes down
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| Bitches get stomped with a fox jump
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| My niggas too crunk over that funk
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| Paul Masson got me dead drunk
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| Now let the Devil Shyt bump
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| As I awake from the things I was quittin' from the night before
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| Don’t want to snap outta trance, I only want to smoke some more
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| The only attire crank the chevy then me race on out South Memphis,
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| go and visit me, Three 6 is at the smoking house
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| Chillin' at the hideout, smokin' out, not worried 'bout a thang
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| Let’s get in the gangsta line and throw the Funky Town sign
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| Ballin' through Black Haven deep as hell in the suburban mane |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Funkytown, artist - Three 6 Mafia. Album song Prophet's Greatest Hits, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп