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....

 [Hurricane G]
 Yo yo Redman! Man what the FUCK man?
 Get the FUCK off that.. punk smoov shit man!
 Get with that ROUGH shit man  you know how we do!

 [Redman]
 Mic check  I walk around the streets with a black tech nine
 by the waistline, kickin the hype shit
 I never claim to be the best type of rapper
 But hafta, 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, whut my name?
 It's the Redman on the funk thang
 Psyche, 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 ejected
 I roughen up the rough draft to like make your head split
 Punk! Pass the 40 and the blunt and don't front
 on the block, cause when you do front, brothers are gettin stomped
 I'm not a addict, more like Puff than 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 niggaz 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 smoov shit, I get down wit the boom bip
 like Q-Tip, I kick more styles than Bruce shoe's kick
 But tonight's the night what I write tonight
 This type of funk with the flavor like Mike'n'Ike's
 Hanging out wit my niggaz, my niggaz
 The {Pack Pistol Posse} keep they fingers on the triggers
 I keep the 40 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 ya speakers pop
 That's the funk, when it pumps it makes your rump
 jump, jump, jump.. jump, jump, jump
 But if you want to see a fly but frantic
 cool romantic, more Slick=er than my man Rick
 You better check the Yellow Pages under smoov shit
 cause Red ain't down for the bullshit
 Niggaz fucked up by letting me make an album (How come rude bwoy?)
 To get on the mic and let my fuckin style run

 Nasty fuckin greenthumb Jolly Green niggaz
 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 this shit off, G
 Boom the new record on, knahmsayin