Coolio Feat Ras Kass 2 Minutes And 21 Seconds Of Funk Lyrics

2 Minutes And 21 Seconds Of Funk Lyrics

Coolio feat. Ras Kass

 

 2 Minutes & 21 Seconds Of Funk

 You know what I'm talkin' about Wino

 Yeah, yeah, yeah

 Two minutes and twenty-one seconds of funk

 and I ain't no punk

 That's right, that's right

 

 A tisket a tasket

 that's all you ask it

 Snap your cd and drop the pieces in your casket

 Like little Jack Horna', I'm still bendin' cornas'

 buckin' shots on your block, I'm sippin' on Corona's

 Uh, your McDonald had a farm wit' a six-fo on suicide

 sittin' in the barn wit' no alarm

 Straight up collected it, cool and calm

 crowbar in my hand and my skeleton brick still works like a charm 

 Who's the rawest?

 My shit is flawless  

 Had to be passin' out bruises,

 lacerations and broken jawses

 Emcees wanna floss you better understand who's the boss

 before I do a Michael Jackson and "Cut your shit off!"

 Part of the penitentary still, penetratin' your grill

 I keep on keepin' it right, while you keep on keepin' it real

 I'll bring the treble and the bass to delapatate your waist

 Coolio's on the case, get yo hoe out my face, fool

 Lodi Dodi, I don't know karate, but I know a razor 

 and none of y'all can't fade me

 I know you wanna try to play me  

 and busta's wanna playa hate me

 I'm one of the dopest niggaz out I

 guess that's why they hate me

 Cause I slang hits like niggaz slang cavi

 I remain like khakis, I guess that's why they mad at me

 On a record you might outgat me

 but you can't outrap me

 my shit is fatta'

 and yo shit need a little bit mo batta'

 Freestyle in unrestricted manner or method

 Free funk text readily selected, so check it

 Uh, ?dip diver?, socializer, I've been rockin'

 these motherfuckin' microphones since nineteen seventy-niner,

 and by the time that this little nappy head nigga retire

 I'ma be at the ripe ol' age of forty-eight or forty-niner

 My shit is wise, CPT M.C. for hire

 my name ain't Rick James but I'll burn your ass with a fire

 So, what's your desire baby love?

 Is it hands wrapped around mics

 or fingers wrapped around triggas?

 Eitha' way it go I'm dumpin' and I'm dippin'

 still tennis shoe pimpin', 40 Thevz in position

 Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum, now nigga I'm a giant

 and yo ass is like Jack,

 but yo magic beans is wack

 Skills is what you lack

 I'm like a Benz, you ain't even like Cadillac

 you mo like a Regal

 I'ma pit bull, and you's a Beagle

 I'm set to strangle hangin' emcee's at all angles

 as their legs start to dangle,

 dance around everybody like Mr. Bo Jangles

 Los Angeles, Compton, Long Beach, and Carson Hawthorne

 livin with the Watts

 I'm sendin' out shout outs 

 I used to drink Ol' Gold

 now I just stroll 

 straight to the ?exit? section of my neighborhood liquor store

 Huh, and you know what make me laugh, bitch?

 Even your mama want my autograph, autograph, autograph,

 autograph, autograph