Common - Food For Funk lyrics

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What  yo  yo  yo  yo  yo
 Yo  yo yo yo  yo  yo  yo  yo
 Check it  yo
 You say a one for the trouble  two for the time
 Come on y'all  let's rock that  uh
 (I can feel the funk)(x4)
 Check it

 I come to grips with mics
 I come to grips that a lot of mic users is dikes
 I come to grips with the likes of Fred Hampton
 Cold  so I'm lampin  with no need for spotlight
 When I got light like an intersection, you talk
 But you came to my town with protection
 Election year, had the block hot
 I scream "fuck the world" for having a baby girl sorta cock block
 I write rhymes like I come from the windy city
 With my crew, I click like simply, stand midi with reality
 Casually, I walk through these war games
 Some claim say but then they take on whore names
 If that's the way your sex drives, stay in your lane
 If you're a man, I can't tell like if the door rang now

 Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place
 It ain't a bunch of niggaz all up in your face
 The music is thumpin and you're feelin the bass
 What you wanna do girl(wanna shout)
 To the brothas when you come in a jam, it ain't a bunch of niggaz
 It ain't high tech and ain't got free liquor
 You jackin his name and stick to make you jones get thicker
 What you wanna do man?(let go)
 Yo, check it

 Some niggaz be on the mic, sounding like dikes
 Allow me to get on and bust like Spike(uh)
 Lee, I'm in the majors with no rotation
 Through stations of bullshit, I see through like a pager
 In the age of Aquarius, various things
 Is gonna carry us in intellect and what have you
 Street astrologists interpret point stars and half moons
 Then end up on garages or walls in bathrooms
 Every black moon, a rap tune move me
 The rap sun, I rain more than Rudy, that unruly shit is played
 It don't stop
 It's time to get it, get it made
 I got my mind made up like Foxy Brown's face
 I know how the underground tastes
 I want a crib from the ground up, rooms spin at a round pace
 Get down based on true story, through Corey, came close to the teachers
 Colder as the Iceman, posted before it start wrinklin
 Linkin with cats, who don't react to change in the years
 Fulfill prophesies in rooms full of emptiness, now


 I can feel the funk(x8)
 Yo, check it, check it

 I came through the corridor, with the aura
 Raw Chicago mora, scope the horror
 Read between the lines and know the border
 Some pop wines for juice, I wait in the water
 Waitin for you Big Willie niggaz to have a show at The Crib
 We gon get with your glamour, long as we know where it is
 Tell you ain't a player by your sweater doused with wack feather
 The Crib got the gangsta playa shit patent like black leather
 I rap better than you, you, or maybe him
 But I am like a tree and every lyric is a timb
 Spilled brews and greasy foods got my car smelly
 Some be so high, they believe they fly like R. Kelly
 But then they fall off, dusted niggaz is gettin sawed off
 They fall soft, my mental lift is for me to haul off
 I kick ass

 I can feel the funk(x16)(makes me wanna shout, wanna shout)(x4)
 (scratching)Wanna shout
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Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: Relativity


Released in: 1997

Language: English

Appearing on: One Day It'll All Make Sense (1997)

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