Tonight's Da Night

Mic check, I can get smooth to any groove
 Relax the tongue, let my mic take a cruise
 Around the planet, pack 'em in like Janet
 Jackson, she's askin' if I can slam it, I'm-
 Yo, yo, Redman, man, what the fuck, man?
 Get the fuck off that punk smooth shit, man
 Get with that rough shit, man, you know how we do
 Mic check, I walk around the streets with a black TEC-9
 By the waistline, kickin' the hype shit
 I never claim to be the best type of rapper
 But have to show them motherfuckers what I'm after
 I'm after the gold, then after that, the platinum
 Beef after that, Hurricane G packs the gat, son
 Trigger, bang, bang, yo, bust the slang, what my name?
 It's the Redman on the funk train
 Psych, you're motherfuckin' right, tonight's the night
 To do what I wanna do, to do it like dynamite
 The work perfected, when the funk been injected
 I roughen up the rough draft to like make your head split
 Punk, pass the forty and the blunt and don't front
 On the block, 'cause when you do front, brothers are gettin' stomped
 I'm not an addict, more like Puff the Magic
 Then pass it when I'm through 'cause my crew (gots to have it)
 I don't claim to be a big rap star
 'Cause no matter who you are, you'll still catch a bullet scar
 So, listen up and take heed to what I'm sayin'
 'Cause tonight's the night and me and my niggas ain't playin'
 Fat black bitch, nasty
 Bush bear, booga breath bitch
 Nasty, talk to your tits bitch
 With them nasty Africans, Mr. Bojangles
 Turned up shoes havin' ass
 Lemming leprechaun haircut motherfucker
 You wanna see me get cool, please, save it for the breeze
 'Cause the lyrics and tracks make me funky like cottage cheese
 Fuck the smooth shit, I get down with the boom bip
 Like Q-Tip, I kick more styles than Bruce shoes kick
 But tonight's the night what I write tonight
 This type of funk with the flavor like Mike 'n' Ike's
 Hanging out with my niggas, my niggas
 The Pack Pistol Posse keep they fingers on the triggers
 I keep the forty between my lap, coolin', rollin' down the highway
 Blunt system pumps 'cause it's Friday
 Roll over to pick my boys up, we raise a lot of noise
 'Cause we can do that black, so "Get the Bozack", Jack
 Remember, I do the type of evil that men do
 Like cursin' out my window at a bitch and her friend too
 So, turn the volume up a notch
 And watch the ba-bump
 Ba-bump, make your speakers pop
 That's the funk, when it pumps it makes your rump
 Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump, jump
 But if you wanna see a fly but frantic
 Cool romantic more slicker than my man Rick
 You better check the Yellow Pages under smooth shit
 'Cause Red ain't down for the bullshit
 Niggas fucked up by lettin' me make an album (how come, rude boy?)
 To get on the mic and let my fuckin' style run
 Nasty fuckin' green thumb Jolly Green niggas
 Tango mango, pickin' havin' ass
 Nasty epileptic disease crazy havin' ass
 Johnny Cash, afro havin'
 Jack of Spades, boots havin'
 Tony Danza, shoes wearin' ass
 B-b-b-black by popular demand, I expand
 My hand to the mic and let my mouth kick the flim flam
 I get sex, I get wreck, I puff mad blunts
 I get vexed, I break necks, punch out gold fronts, chump, you-
 Yo, fuck that, yo, turn this shit off, man (turn that shit off)
 Turn that shit down, man
 Turn this shit off, G
 Boom the new record on, know what I'm sayin'?