Verse One: 



So you wanna be hardcore 

With your hat to the back, talkin bout the gats in your raps 

But I can't feel that hardcore appeal 

that you're screamin, baby I'm dreamin 

This ain't Christopher Williams, still some

MC's got to feel one, caps I got to peel some 

To let niggaz know... that if you fuck with Big-and-Heavy 

I get up in that ass like a wedgie

Says who? Says me, the lyrical 

Niggaz sayin, "Biggie off the street, it's a miracle" 

Left the drugs alone, took the thugs along with me 

Just for niggaz actin shifty 

Sticks and stones break bones, but the gat'll kill you quicker 

Especially when I'm drunk off the liquor 

Smokin funk by the boxes, packin glocks is 

natural to eat you niggaz like chocolates 

The funk baby 



Chorus (repeats 8X)



"I live for the funk, I'll die for the funk" (LOTUG, Chief Rocka) 



Verse Two: 



All I want is bitches, big booty bitches 

Used to sell crack, so I could stack my riches 

Now I pack gats, to stop all the snitches 

from stayin in my business, what is this? Relentless 

approach, to know if I'm broke or not 

Just cause I joke and smoke a lot 

Don't mean I don't tote the glock 

Sixteen shots for my niggaz in the pen 

Until we motherfuckin meet again 

Huh, I'm doin rhymes now, fuck the crimes now 

Come on the ave, I'm real hard to find now 

Cause I'm knee deep in the beats 

In the Land Cruiser Jeep with the Mac-10 by the seats 

For the jackers, the jealous ass crackers AND THE BLUE SUITS, 

I'll make you prove that it's bulletproof 

Hold ya head, cause when you hit the bricks 

I got gin, mad blunts, and bitches suckin dick 

The funk baby 



Repeat chorus



Verse Three: 



So I guess you know the story, the rap-side, crack-side 

How I smoked funk, smacked bitches on the backside 

Bed-Stuy, the place where my head rests 

Fifty shot clip if a nigga wan' test 

The rocket launcher, Biggie stomped ya 

High as a motherfuckin helicopter 

That's why I pack a nina, fuck a misdeameanor 

Beatin motherfuckers like Ike beat Tina 

[What's Love, Got to Do] 

when I'm rippin all through your whole crew 

Strapped like bamboo, but I don't sling guns 

I got bags of funk, and it's sellin by the tons 

Niggaz wanna know, how I live the mack life 

Making money smoking mics like crack pipes

It's type simple and plain to maintain 

I add a little funk to the brain 

The funk baby 



Repeat chorus