Late at night I'm writing got a lot on my mind Exchanging midnight beats for sleep 'cause time's hard to find Spent the whole day hiking through the
let me tell you we're comin' out the cellar [repeated endlessly] So get me on the mic I'll be the ill-funk fella Here comes the fingers on the ill-funk
on the way just like the days of cloudy weather In the autumn fill the bottom with funky bass-string plucks And Talbott will keep it tight like Hollywood butt-tucks The Five Fingers of Funk
can't knock it Getting paid to light the mic up like a bulb in a socket Flip the switch tonight I saw it in their eyes The Fingers kept it live the energy
Kids are caught going the wrong way Mindstraights tapping you Worried in a flurry about the clout and kids capping you Only thirteen another dream seems
Speak upon an issue strain your brain tissue But you don't raise your voice 'cause you're afraid someone will diss you Words are needing saying so you
Tell me what you're worth 'cause in a burst of flames Blood stains could frame your body leaving your name in vain Now tell me what you did you live
Funky fresh tracks I'm strapped with a pack Pump the real rap false crap to the back I stay true to the vibe and the flavor the old school Gave you what
Look at where you at look look at where you're going Listen to the rhyme check the way I'm flowing Got to come correct when I select words for wreck
] Aiyyo watch yo mouth! [Redman] Aiyyo, one two three four five six seven Blaze the hot [LL Cool J] trizack that sound like heaven Seven six five
Chorus Everybody get up singing 1,2,3,4, Five will make you get down now Everybody get up singing 1,2,3,4, Five will make you get down now Verse 1
Because money changes everything [ ROUND 1: Donald D ] Once again comin at you hyper Donald D the Syndicate Sniper Boston Strangler, Charles Manson No matter what killer I mention, keep dancin _Five Fingers
I spent too much time Straight talk with the catch to etch my line walk Never fetchin' for crime, halt, who goes there? Yo, it's the squeeze of five fingers
Da bullshit, IC-Don motherfucker, da bullshit Funk Doc, motherfucker, push whips, motherfucker Na, na, chill out, who got the weed in this motherfucker
Erick Sermon and Keith Murray A lot of beer, a lot of girls and a lot of cursin' Forty five automatic on my person Ya, got my hand in my pocket and my finger
bash I set it off (Right, right) I shot up your lights while you caught up in the heights My lyrics starvin', my crew runs like the mob And the funk
matter 'cause my shit get fatter and fatter I'll do the funk in your face and it slaps ya How does it feel with the face full of funk? With the bass
out, yo, 1992 begins the new wave for the blunt rollers You know what I'm sayin'? The saga of the Philly Blunt continues The flava's the P Funk y'all
