Ice Cube And Mack 10 Freestyle Lyrics

Ice Cube And Mack 10 Freestyle lyrics

Ice Cube] 

 Aiyyo, this is Ice Cube the Don Mega.  Don't worry about your time zone, get


 your grind on.  60 Minutes of Funk, Volume 3. Final Chapter, yeah, ya-ay! 

  

 [Funkmaster Flex] 

 Aight, my man Mack 10 gettin ready to lace all this. 

  

 [Mack 10] 

 Yo, check it, let the games begin 

 It's all to the good, bust out to the NYC from Inglewood 

 We can all get down, have loot, and get licked 

 So fuck the bi-coastal beef and bullshit 

 It's the nigga that you know is gun-ho 

 Mack one-o, I bust bad bitches in pairs, never one hoe 

 With ?tips? for the real niggas to make it thorough 

 Much love to the East Coast ghettos and the boroughs 

 Like E.F. Hutton, they listen when I'm speakin 

 Poor white trash, black niggas, to Puerto Ricans 

 Mack wanna blast when the index itches 

 Plus I use it to finger bitches and hit switches 

 Check the menu, you need it, I got it 

 Everything, hit records to narcotics 

 Its all about the dough, rain, sleet or snow 

 And the first fool to cross me catch the four-four 

 Then the phats on ?bun?, surprise you with that one 

 And whoever don't like it, fuck em and eat a fat one 

 The to homies in the pen, I'll send you a kite 

 Cause its time for the real niggas to unite 

 Like Funkmaster Flex, you know its all about figures 

 We showed each other love so now Flex is my nigga 

 I remember the day, if it was good you never fought it 

 No matter where you were from if it was bumpin you bought it 

 From East to West Coast, its all the same 

 Its either run the dope game, or do the rap thang 

 Mack 10 keep it gangsta, all the way tight 

 Two heats on my hip, left and right for the fight 

 So with that hoo-bangin life 

  

 [Funkmaster Flex] 

 Y'knaw mean, cause that's the way we keep it moving, baby.  

  

 [Ice Cube] 

 Yeah, Ice Cube, my man Funkmaster Flex, my man Mack 10.  It don't stop, The


 Final Chapter. You know how we do it. 

  

 [Funkmaster Flex] 

 I still ain't havin it, motherfucker. Aight, look out for that! Aight?  Drop


 that, don't miss it.  I'm tired of nigas frontin on me, a lot of nigga frontin


 on me.  Be-atch!  Aight