Funky Piano / From A Town Call Paris / Donkeys

Lyrics

Funky Piano [Intro] Huh Huh, check this out, for ninety-three Check it, check it out, here we, here we go, yo Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo [Couplet] Huh Here comes the man with the swing (with the swing) Pass me a forty and I'm singing with my Beatnuts I'm curious, time to get serious When I see a punk faking the funk, I get furious The wicked, the wicked psycho- Les got my back Juju the ooze That's for those who refuse, my music is of the people Made by the people, for the people Hey yo, fuck it we're all equal Don't play me no colour, and just call me brother But if you mess around, you'll get smoked, motherfucker UH! The way that I rock the microphone, check it, one-two Let me kick this shit black, won't go back to France before my pocket's are real fat Like my beats and the flavor that I'm kicking One up out of the woods, better keep working Coming from another land to rock the funky apple They used to call me Revolucien, now here's the rebel The French New Yorker, Papalu, the Swinger The French nigga who goes click, like a trigger, then Bang! Talking about the funky style I'm throwing Like Chuck Berry, I keep rocking and rolling a blunt To get me hyper, I'm born in September Smoke 6 niggas with a bullet in my chamber Sh**t! Excuse my French, but I'm in effect No time for hickies, I'll leave you with a broken neck So stop hookin and shaking when I'm speaking 'Cause when I get the mic oh snap I get wicked I'm indestructible, young black intellectual Some say are criminal (What ? It's unbelievable) [Pont] We interrupt our programming to bring you the following special report From A Town Call Paris [Couplet 1: Lucien] The one they called Lucien is rippin' shit For ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-ninety-more Welcome to the neighborhood they call the woods (the Woods!) We be robbin' all goods, and be robbin' all hoodlums Put down the mics and the guns I'm on my way to habben, stickin' up nuns The pope gets mugged in my neighborhood He gets robbed all his gold, 'cause the times get cold The pigs likes to do ya, just like the donkeys Snap damn I hate to be search like a junky But that's how the suburbs and Paris goes And if you don't believe me, ask Bo, he knows My man got shot by a chump for nothing Looking for the chump while I hear the cops laughin' But hey yo, yo, look at my finger It's right on the trigger, to buck a punk, nigga 'Cause I ain't goin' out like a duck So walk like a duck, 'cause yo ! You outta luck, word up I get tired of the bullshit I take a whore, take her home, take a nap and that's it now I relax max, I'm ripping up fun tracks The new jacks who use the mic like Tampax, get smacked (wacha!) Just like on TV, they make Paris looks like everything is rosy (It is not?) No, no, no, so I keep laughin' A tourist talkin' shit on my block yo I snuff him That's how it is when you fuck around money And that's how it used to be when I was coolin' in Paris From the Zulu Nation, from a town called Paris From the Zulu Nation, from a town called Paris From a town called Paris [Couplet 2: Lucien] Je continue, je flow pour nineteen-ninety-three Pour la vieille école, les anciens, et tous ceux qui sont partis (Bang ! Bang! Bang !) Goes my nine, if you play me too close You get blown up like a mine I start to flip, rip, dip Hip, never trip and cold bust your lip (Extra ! Extra !) Oh yes, I come bigger I drop shit, you say: "Snap! That's a French nigga?!" Wake up and smell the blunt I keep flippin' I got my shank, my tooli, I'm trippin' Uh! Niggas from the Woods, keeps swingin' People keeps looking, wondering what we smoking Who gives a damn what they thinkin' about Smoke a blunt, then a punk get a ho, then we out That's how we livin', illin', plus I got a job Punk motherfucker mess around and get stabbed So, hey, catch the blues, yo, 'cause I can't loose I paid my dues, so, yo, check out the news Ninety-three, we bring the hardcore jazz Jealous of the Woods 'cause of what we have But that's alright, 'cause chumps niggas, they get toast And they french-kiss my black ass, yup! cause I'm ghost [Outro] From the Zulu Nation, from a town called Paris From the Zulu Nation, from a town called Paris From the Zulu Nation, from a town called Paris From the Zulu Nation, from a town called Paris From the Zulu Nation From the Zulu Nation, from a town called Paris, Paris Donkeys [Intro: ] Hey, yo, listen, I don't like you for your money I want you to understand this... [Couplet: Lucien] You don't like for my money But you like me when I'm rich So let's go h*, (I'm not a h*) alright bitch Move to the side let me take a look, a good— Look at your friends, you know Lucien When it comes to money, honeys act funny I kick them in the mouth 'cause I like karate High-kick, low kick, check my funky technic Hang around the Woods and I'll stick up your picnics Uh, bad motherfuckin' Lu I got rid of your crew, now I'm chocking you Yup, yup, that's how the Woods goes, napsac full of h*es Eatin' up sweeties from heads to toes Hey, yo, I got flavor that make you pull out your wallets Never hang with a bitch who's got cactus in her pocket Pockets fat, oh, yes, that's how I like it I knock the boots, get the loot, then jet like a rocket I'm coolin', chillin, now honey is sleeppin' She told me when I do the boogaloo I be rippin sh*t (hi-han) That's how it goes when I be chillin' with the hoes