Machine Gun Funk

Notorious B.I.G.

  • 																					Verse One: 

    So you wanna be hardcore
    With your hat to the back, talkin bout the gats in your raps
    But I can't feel that hardcore appeal
    that you're screamin, baby I'm dreamin
    This ain't Christopher Williams, still some
    MC's got to feel one, caps I got to peel some
    To let niggaz know... that if you fuck with Big-and-Heavy
    I get up in that ass like a wedgie
    Says who? Says me, the lyrical
    Niggaz sayin, "Biggie off the street, it's a miracle"
    Left the drugs alone, took the thugs along with me
    Just for niggaz actin shifty
    Sticks and stones break bones, but the gat'll kill you quicker
    Especially when I'm drunk off the liquor
    Smokin funk by the boxes, packin glocks is
    natural to eat you niggaz like chocolates
    The funk baby

    Chorus (repeats 8X)

    "I live for the funk, I'll die for the funk" (LOTUG, Chief Rocka)

    Verse Two:

    All I want is bitches, big booty bitches
    Used to sell crack, so I could stack my riches
    Now I pack gats, to stop all the snitches
    from stayin in my business, what is this? Relentless
    approach, to know if I'm broke or not
    Just cause I joke and smoke a lot
    Don't mean I don't tote the glock
    Sixteen shots for my niggaz in the pen
    Until we motherfuckin meet again
    Huh, I'm doin rhymes now, fuck the crimes now
    Come on the ave, I'm real hard to find now
    Cause I'm knee deep in the beats
    In the Land Cruiser Jeep with the Mac-10 by the seats
    For the jackers, the jealous ass crackers in the (car sirens)
    I'll make you prove that it's bulletproof
    Hold ya head, cause when you hit the bricks
    I got gin, mad blunts, and bitches suckin dick
    The funk baby

    Repeat chorus

    Verse Three:

    So I guess you know the story, the rap-side, crack-side
    How I smoked funk, smacked bitches on the backside
    Bed-Stuy, the place where my head rests
    Fifty shot clip if a nigga wan' test
    The rocket launcher, Biggie stomped ya
    High as a motherfuckin helicopter
    That's why I pack a nina, fuck a misdeameanor
    Beatin motherfuckers like Ike beat Tina
    [What's Love, Got to Do]
    when I'm rippin all through your whole crew
    Strapped like bamboo, but I don't sling guns
    I got bags of funk, and it's sellin by the tons
    Niggaz wanna know, how I live the mack life
    Making money smoking mics like crack pipes
    It's type simple and plain to maintain
    I add a little funk to the brain
    The funk baby

    Repeat chorus

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