Plunken Em

With the electric soul shock, body rock and rolling
 Take a David T walk to that corner liquor store
 And mama wants a new pack of George Benson & Hedges
 They mentholated
 To all my P fans I'm glad you waited
 We graduated from paying dues to sitting on the porch
 Brothers playing the blues in search of more pews
 To fill up the funk church
 The masses massive tabernacle it cracklely wax
 To sample the man full of holy drums
 (You guys are rolling bums)
 With swollen thumbs, we walk through slums
 Find some bottle with wood done, ya...
 Stand up
 Cool with the rhythm
 Get down
 Stand up
 Cool with the rhythm
 Get all
 Yo, it's the art of fresh music not that artificial crap
 That the people calling rap, yo we getting rid of that
 We Rat Packing the beat, till we feel it's complete
 Break beats getting discovered
 Some get flipped to outnumber
 The weak drum machines, don't use 'em won't abuse 'em
 Getting funky like drunky
 Call us the groove junkies
 And we gotta have a fix every minute on the dot
 Just the {drum kicks}
 And we tearing up your block
 You can hear it up the street
 You can hear it in your sleep
 Booming out the record stores while you at the swap meet
 Macking to a seven feet
 Crunching on a two piece
 Said it'll make your day fucked up people, just trust me
 We back on the three dot, booming in your ghetto blaster
 Till midnight, feel right and party till you drop
 Hip hop live in the flesh, keep it well dressed
 Hands pushing up
 Now all I wanna see you do is...
 Groove to the rhythm, something new to give 'em
 I prove the rhythm choose the women like night swimming in a hot tub
 And Double K got dubs
 We rock clubs like Tiger Woods
 Giving up funk for goods
 To Howard Robinson and Beverly Wood [?]
 Eating cheeseburgers with my pals, going home to lounge
 In the styles of my predecessors
 The B-Boy, never the less, the S, the western born
 That early morn' to that yes yes y'all
 Thes rock like a new clock on top of the school hall
 Ringing roll call
 Professor head shake, monitor the gym hall
 Up taking out the fakes
 With a twelve string incision
 Reinvent the rhythm
 The cats that's living just like us
 Now envision a mathematician giving up a calculator
 Ayo that's me without the funk, Double K rock the cross fader
 {Scratching}
 Yo we got the whole world under surgery for funk transplants
 Making music not hood so yo we don't got the look
 We got bad memory, a gang of records and fans
 Mad plans to keep it live with just the blink of an eye
 Yeah we thought that you thought that we wasn't coming back
 We turned around and smacked that clown
 (Who told you that?)
 We too cool for our britches, putting stitches on your zip disc
 Get this, hip hop is the drug and we in rehab
 Just be glad, that you don't live close to us
 Then you see most of us
 And we be known to bust
 With no [?] junior should've learned a little sooner
 It's the two forties in the tight ish running to ya
 Two villains in the car chase (crash!)
 Throw your roadblock of weak beats
 Continuing the mission through the streets
 Of the angel town
 With my Steeley Dan Brown
 While I groove with the rhythm, move with the rhythm
 Get off with it
 I'm about to quit it but before I step off it's like
 "Yeah"
 To the break of daylight it's right
 Make y'all
 "Ha ha! Rastafan you son of motherfuck!"