2 Minutes 21 Seconds Of Funk by Coolio

 
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Lyrics

2 Minutes 21 Seconds Of Funk Lyrics

Yeah, yeah
Fuck all these niggaz
You know what Im talkin about wino
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Two minutes and twenty-one seconds of funk
And I aint no punk
Thats right, thats right
A tisket a tasket
Thats all you ask it
Snap your cd and drop the pieces in your casket
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2 Minutes 21 Seconds Of Funk Lyrics

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Yeah, yeah
Fuck all these niggaz
You know what Im talkin about wino
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Two minutes and twenty-one seconds of funk
And I aint no punk
Thats right, thats right
A tisket a tasket
Thats all you ask it
Snap your cd and drop the pieces in your casket
Like little jack horna, Im still bendin cornas
Buckin shots on your block, Im sippin on coronas
Uh, your mcdonald had a farm wit a six-fo on suicide
Sittin in the barn wit no alarm
Straight up collected it, cool and calm
Crowbar in my hand and my skeleton brick still works like a charm
Whos the rawest?
My shit is flawless
Had to be passin out bruises,
Lacerations and broken jawses
Emcees wanna floss you better understand whos the boss
Before I do a michael jackson and cut your shit off!
Part of the penitentary still, penetratin your grill
I keep on keepin it right, while you keep on keepin it real
Ill bring the treble and the bass to delapatate your waist
Coolios on the case, get yo hoe out my face, fool
Lodi dodi, I dont know karate, but I know a razor
And none of yall cant fade me
I know you wanna try to play me
And bustas wanna playa hate me
Im one of the dopest niggaz out i
Guess thats why they hate me
Cause I slang hits like niggaz slang cavi
I remain like khakis, I guess thats why they mad at me
On a record you might outgat me
But you cant outrap me
My shit is fatta
And yo shit need a little bit mo batta
Freestyle in unrestricted manner or method
Free funk text readily selected, so check it
Uh, ? dip diver? , socializer, Ive been rockin
These motherfuckin microphones since nineteen seventy-niner,
And by the time that this little nappy head nigga retire
Ima be at the ripe ol age of forty-eight or forty-niner
My shit is wise, cpt m.c. for hire
My name aint rick james but Ill burn your ass with a fire
So, whats your desire baby love?
Is it hands wrapped around mics
Or fingers wrapped around triggas?
Eitha way it go Im dumpin and Im dippin
Still tennis shoe pimpin, 40 thevz in position
Fee-fi-fo-fum, now nigga Im a giant
And yo ass is like jack,
But yo magic beans is wack
Skills is what you lack
Im like a benz, you aint even like cadillac
You mo like a regal
Ima pit bull, and yous a beagle
Im set to strangle hangin emcees at all angles
As their legs start to dangle,
Dance around everybody like mr. bo jangles
Los angeles, compton, long beach, and carson hawthorne
Livin with the watts
Im sendin out shout outs
I used to drink ol gold
Now I just stroll
Straight to the ? exit? section of my neighborhood liquor store
Huh, and you know what make me laugh, bitch?
Even your mama want my autograph, autograph, autograph,
Autograph, autograph
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