| Lyrics: | Blackout"
(feat. Redman)
[Redman]
It's Funk Doc
Where da weed at,
bitch?!
I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops
See thas' shit?! Believe thas'
shit!
Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for t.v.
Backdraw water, my windpipes
attached to
Project-ballers
You yell: "Turn the heat down!"
My voice,
divi-di-round-sound,
some heard round town
And chances are ya'll leavin', round
now
Wait later, will make Funk page paper
Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders
Hit
the High School at 187 Caesar
When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres
Doc ya'll and that's
my man JabberJaw
The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?
I'm from the underground, my
soundlib
Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!
[Chorus:]
[Meth & Red]
GET UP,
STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP
JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!
Brrrrr...STICK 'EM,
HA-HAHA STICK 'EM
Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM
Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED
OUT MOVE OUT,
EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL FEEL IT!
Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA
STICK 'EM
Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM
[Meth]
Now I'm the streettalkin',
dogwalkin'
Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU FORCIN'?
My hand that rock yo'
cradle often I'm hot-scorchin',
but stone cold like Steve Austin
If you smell what Tical
cookin',
ain't tryin' to see central bookin'
So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you
did last
summer?
So I started hookin', you past shookin'
Offer open can of
ass-whoopin'?
Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop Of
Horrors
Go ask your
father who the father from the (Park)Hill
to (Mariners)Harbor
You know tha saga,
marijuana blunts and Goldschlager
With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon
and
Reggie
Don't even bother, to radio for back-up
Alright then, ya man got slapped
up extorted for his
icin'
Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!
Nigga pull a
Tyson and bite a nigga' ear
Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew
Ruggeder, Predator,
Viking, excetera
People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors
Reachin' for the
microphone, relax and light a bone
Straight from the Catacombs
The Children Of The Corn,
that don't got a clue
Prepare for desert storm!
[Chorus]
I scored 1.1 on my
SAT
And still push a whip with a right and left AC
Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get
called
I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars
Spit poison, got a gun permit
draw
Gundown at Sundown you keep score!
This training-course and ya'll ain't fit
On
my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'
[Meth]
Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be
When will you learn?
Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn
I spit a .41 Revolver on
New Year's Eve
With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s
The most slept on since Rip Van
Wink
My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc
So what you think? I'm a blackout on
just one drink?
You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe
Go get a
shrink...
[Chorus |
