Aftermath

Lyrics

[Intro: Dirty Red] Aight players, aight G's Hustlers, pimps, macks, real niggas and all that The time has come And what a time to drop real gangster poetry on that ass Haha, yeah Comin' at you from the underworld - the Aftermath A group of underground lunatics brought together on mission Of destruction So all you bitches and hoes beware, for what lurks beyond in the darkness Gives true meanin' to the words totally insane 187, mo' motherfucking murderous homicidal skills for you suckers Stay down and get that ass clowned KM.G, the motherfucking undertaker, the bitch breaker So hoes if you didn't know, now you do So that's just the first clue from a nigga on a mission You see, chronic is way of life, G So spray a peace to mothers and get butted the fuck out Awww yeah, with dopeness comes a man named Kokane Influential in amount, believin' in a certain theory That all players must come correct Either that or he'll gets no respect You see, it's all about makin' yours in this life time So with that said, I would like to introduce one more player in this game A nigga named Shaki a/k/a the K A nigga known for breakin' suckas off So y'all believin' in the theory of elevation Reason bein', I got the fly, fly shit for that ass So here it is players, aww yeah, bitches too The fly shit for you So tune in and get faded with the Aftermath, niggas [Hook: Cold 187um & KMG](x2) Funk them up Funk 'em up, funk 'em up, from the Westcoast Funk 'em up, funk 'em up, funk 'em up Funk 'em up, funk 'em up, from the Eastcoast Funk 'em up, funk 'em up, funk 'em up [Verse 1: Cold 187um] Aw, comin' through the motherfuckin' side door Checkin' all the niggas and clockin' all the hoes Before you jump up and get wile e' like coyote You better ask your bitch if she knows me (ooooohhhhh) Cause I got two pounds of baking soda and two pounds of coke I bought her bitch her Baby, some pampers, so I can stroke (KMG: So you can call them when you want to, baby) Yah, right, because I've just told you homie the same two nights ago Or should I say four scores ago So bow wow, wow, wow, yippi yay, yippi yo, ho Because to play you is my only wish Yo, so pass me the skin so I can rush it like Emmitt Smith And then I have to count boyd that ass, tore that ass Pimp that ass and straight funk that ass I guess you motherfuckers get the clue (what up?) Something for the cut up, Chevy's to hop to "yeah" I maybe in your Coupé, or Jeep or your Wagon I maybe makin' dollars but I'm not braggin' I give my props to my niggas in the penal, see For tryin' to come up, Gettin' caught up in the system G It's like a game, never pick'd to win So I'll see you when you get out if not when I get in (Well, alright) Cause I'm not a Rodney King Part Two So I'm a smoke one for me and smoke a gang for you [Verse 2: KMG] Nigga, nigga, nigga, aww shit The ho' gigolo flow quick So... what's the word? I've just served a bird to the ho' with the Deuce on the corner The green eyed hooker with the juice and the toners The king black macademian Funk bone Hit the loot stick? quick and fade Al Capone Let me take my hat off And peep my Madonna, sex magazine Freak all the nymphos I'm a pussy fiend Ooh, Mister Mister, twister twister is what they call me Then they bore me Hoes on my Diznick, I'm livin' a revelation I'm kickin' the real shit, fuck the nigga's reputation (fuck it) Glock to the dome, what up?, I'll straight fuck ya' Or told my nigga Shake, .45 he'll buck ya Or I'm a trip and bring K-Oss in it Or my nigga Mack fuckin' re-up to Pimp Clinic So, I'm a ask you a question (what up Loc'?) Do you wanna die for me? (yeah) Or do you wanna die for my Kokane that's 17-5 a ki? [Verse 3: Dirty Red] Awww yeah, I sit leanin' on my toners when I'm bellin' Through the crooked streets deep in Cali' where I'm dwellin' Sellin' mobile dubs cause I gotta make a dolla' Finna' drop the top on my rag-trey-Impala I'm droppin' loco nigga out there doin sharin' dirt Got two hoes on the corner and they feeling put in work Now I pimps, though I keeps my pimping on the down low Too many hoes will get a nigga in some trouble And so I'm... bumped the three wheel motion Hit the corner quick, feeling like the Chronic stick And get higher than a motherfuker I got a beap fo' the sky pager, trick ass bitch But just in time so it's off to the next stage Yeah, picked up my mobile phone, to make a booty call Creepin' down Crenshaw, watchin' out for the law (yeah, the motherfuckers) Cause the police quick to put the nigga on the side of the curb And take a chunk of my bird, G It leaves a nigga like short But I ain't wet? them up, I got the dope from the street motherfuckers [Interlude: Cold 187um] Aww yeah, The Aftermath Journey through this Aftermath Kokane is here Here goes Kane, check this out [Verse 4: Kokane] Now I'm comin' around, comin' around, comin' around the fuckin' mountain Wettin' niggas up like a motherfuckin' fountain So don't clone me, don't get attached Cause some of you niggas' style's more faker than a Wrestler Match Added preservatives, artificial flavors Baking soda free, said I say a fuckin' savior If you're R&B house Music, I'll say hell no Think that Donnie Simpson will have Kokane on his show? Who gives the funk shit like that? you know it's weak Cause G shit came from the concrete So take a seat in the back jack, known I gots to strap No longer will there be a white motherfucker dictating what is real rap You motherfucking hypocrites When your ass is used to promoting that heavy metal shit To the K to the O to the K to the A, to that's N-E we flow My name is Kokane, never simple the reason I'm dope So Bon Voyage I gots the stack And I'm out like Schwarzeneger but I'll be back (Fuck them up)