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