The JB’s Tribute Pastor P

Lyrics

[Intro] Hum C'mon, ay, yeah, ah C'mon, yuh, one, two, one, two Listen, ah, yeah, c'mon, ay Look, one, two, one, two C'mon, ah, yeah C'mon, ay, look, one, two, one, two C'mon, yeah, listen, ah C'mon, ay, look C'mon [H-Mack] I said I feel good and I knew that I would I spit facts on these records make the truth understood Overheat my speech leaks fumes out the hood Of your vehicle, my free flow unbelievable I'm makin' speakers blow out the trunk of your Hummer My name bubbles like kids having fun in the summer, ah I bring the thunder tearing punks asunder 'Causе they sample my flow more timеs than The Funky Drummer Smooth like knives through butter, did I stutter? I'm ill Rhythm like I'm Clyde Stubblefield On Mother Popcorn thoughts storm Out my mental in top form, I'm sorry you were not warned Respected from the rookies to the old vets Competitors are steppin' with their bold threats Better under pressure you ain't never seen before yet Got you breakin' out in a Cold Sweat Speakin' through ghost notes and rimshots The flow's dope, I've been hot And I don't need to showboat with no gold rope or wristwatch I climb higher than oak growth, I'm at the tip-top Aw, snap, we really back at this Bootsy on the bass y'all, we bringin' that fatness Fantastic when Mack flips the rap scripts Funkiest guitar scratches from Catfish You know you couldn't match this, I strike with flames Guaranteed to ignite your brain With this music I'm a student of the best If I spew it, then it's fresh Why pursue it unless you Doin' It To Death? I'm sayin' yo, I really kill it in the zone T. S. hella lit, I'm brilliant with the poems Feelin' like I'm one in nine billion and it's known I slide like Fred Wesley, you can feel it in your bones Said I'm always cold, way cooler than the A/C Don't make me spell it out for you, it's The J.B.'s When I jot bars, every jam bumps Jungle breaks get you higher than joints, blunts And bongs, I break it down like weed chunks Peep the deep slump, beats bumpin' from P-Funk Music that ain't got no heart, that thought's so dark My raw flow sparks like Jabo Starks off top, throw darts In the cypher freestylin', I don't use a pad Same mindset the Buddha had, Super Bad The music mad groovy, dad duty 'Cause Papa's Got a Brand New Bag of rap rubies Look, we give it up and turn it loose Celebrity legend livin' plush and earnin' loot My style is unruly, it's truly crazy H-Mack, official collab with Bootsy, baby Let's go (now these are the J.B.'s) C'mon (oh Harry Mack, you punch a pack dude!) Y'all know what it is man, Harry Mack Bootsy playin' that funk, c'mon, let's go (Blow Fred!) [Instrumental Break] [Outro] Yeah, c'mon Yuh, one two, one two, listen Yeah, c'mon, ah Look, one two, one two, c'mon Yeah, c'mon, ah Look, one two, one two, c'mon, yeah Listen, one two, one two, c'mon Hit me now! You know I like it Put in the pocket I won't lock it, baby I ain' t no scrub Pass the 'P' (Fred!) Clyde, Jabo, c'mon get down Now these are the J.B.'s Get funky, get funky Get funky, get funky Jab, hit me now! Pass the 'P' like it used to be Pass the 'P' (everybody!) Pass the 'P' like it used to be Pass the 'P' (pass the 'P'!) Pass the 'P' like it used to be Pass the 'P' (c'mon!) Pass the 'P' like it used to be Catfish, Clyde, Jabo from Alabama, baby (yeah, one two, one two) And we have Fred Wesley (listen, one two, one two) And these are the J.B.'s