Don't Bite the Phunk

(- Cold 187'um) Yeah what's up Kokane "What's up player"(cold chillin'in this muthafucka) Yeah we're just go on laid back in the studio, man on this groove And talk about some muthafuckas, that we don't give a fuck about (Definetly don't give a fuck about, you know what I'm saying) On some fly fly funk shit, (you know what I'm saying) Some shit that niggas bit, "what's up partner ha ha ha- I'm talkin to you Dre, don't bite my shit Don't bite the funk that feeds you Cause I sure the hell don't need ya Ha ha what's up. Yeah. now while we're in the studio kickin' it off (You know what I'm saying)- on the ill tip You know, I wanna do some old school You know, I wanna just kick some shit off And show them muthafuckas I mean buisness -(you know what I'm saying) So ah when the clock strikes to six I'mma put them hoes in the mix (hi hi hi hi) And I'mma do it like this for them (ya know what I'm sayin') (Cold 187'um) Ahh yeah ahh 1-87 chillin' in my coup dippin' One thing I can't stand is when fools get the set trippin' Now I was down with the gang truce Until I found out you was gettin' ganked by Dr. Suess Now you can get Compton, Long Beach South Central, Watts, Carson even Pomona You can even ran to Timbuktu But I'mma creep through the fog bitch and I'mma smoke you Now I'mma take you through you history book Uh ah let's take a look Yeah- when I first came to Ruthless I was livin' like hustler But see you, you was livin' straight like a busta I used to think you was a troop 'Til I remembered you was in the muthafuckin' Wreckin Cru And then I looked at an old album cover It was you chillin' lookin' gay as a muthafucka I could have took it any kind of way But see six months later you were NWA And now it's gangsta gangsta pimpsta pimpsta But to me you was still wimpsta wimpsta Yeah you dissed Eazy-E but I'm confused Cause you're scared as fuck to diss Ice Cube Yeah now you're all straight smilin'and trucin' But remember "yo Dre, stick to producin'" Now you say you ain't gettin' gangked no more But I know who owns Death Row. really doe Yo I got a little piece of paper from someone And not one line on it reads Andre Young You try to diss my record deal, but I'm still quick I'm on a mission, and I'm going for the fuckin' gift So next time your in the place I'm hollering 1-8-7 with my Glock in your fuckin' face Cause real niggas don't go out that quick So it's cool that you bit my shit- bitch Cause I'm a baller by far and plus a G And I like my chronic twist with some VSOP See broke niggas can't buy it cause it costs ends Shut the fuck up, you're just Dre's broke friend Snoop Dogg you better get your paper work right Because if not you'll be all bark with no bite Yo- see we go kinda back see But see things got fucked up when your flunkie tried to diss me You need to go and check your puppy, G Because who the fuck is he, to jump up and diss me Cause I'm a nigga with a gang of funk And I'mma show the muthafucka to keep my name out his mouth Yo- I never got smoked you muthafucking new jack You fuckin' around with me you gonna end up on your back Yo try to diss me to get respect But you sounded like a muthafuckin Redman reject I give props when props are due And my props to you is muthafucka fuck you You're just a flunkie for the D-R-E You punk muthafucka, you wannabe G And you know I always drop the shit proper You can ask your homies or you can ask the doctor But he don't get no props neither I'mma say it on wax and I can say it when I see ya (fool) Try to kick it like you got stamina Whoop that ass like Luke did in Atlanta Oops did you slip, did you trip, did you run Did he have a gun, did you want some No I don't think so (ah well) Here's a bone you can choke Get your ass with the mafia loc Yeah fool, so what you wanna throw up Cause you're broke as a muthafucka Lookin tore up But I'm the original 1-87 no one can do it better So I'm out, and peace to my homie Snoop Yo I hope you get yours before they do you- yeah And that's realer then a juice of a duce See some might not like it but yo it's the truth (SweetTalk (aka Kokane)) Boop boop be doo- well alright y'all Yes lordy, ah some say it's like the Peanuts Gang I took your house off ya Snoopy- well a wrong Say Dre, my name it's Sweet Talk Now do you belive in funk after death? Cause I do, so watch this (Kokane) It's like dip-dip-a-la we got to make a stack We can fix your funk when the shits on the flat Pump pump you up, send you on your way And I don't belive in celebratin' Dre day It's like "Hear ye, hear ye! Come one, come all!" Kokane is servin suckas at the players ball If you come up the deal You will get blasted A tisket, a tasket, we throw your body in the basket It's a wonderful day in my muthafuckin neighborhood A wonderful day in my goddamn neighborhood Now rollin' tip-toe, incognito Ichin' to serve a fool when my pump says so (Pump Pump) Is another nigga with the D is plottin And if you're fuckin with this nigga You'll be spittin' out buck shots So no pain no gain Bakin soda free and they call me Kokane Now I'mma fuck you up Kurupt Cause I'mma bust trough your hood like the Schlitz Malt Liquor bull Cause you gets no propers Now your throwin' up the Pound But I'm throwin' up the Black Mafia Can't stop ya, what you wanna do? Bring it on Snoop And your whole fuckin' Puppy Pound crew It's the nickel-slick nigga from Pomona Not fake like lacers But real like 'Tona's Snoop Dogg you fuckin cold hopped it Did most of the writing for Dre And still you get your troops dropped Now I see nigga's rich But you was in the county washing master's shoes like a bitch Now who's been sleepin' in my bed Eatin' my funk, takin dope styles by the chunk Cause I'mma funky to the finish Cause your funk got a gang of B-12 in it (Kokane): Yeah in case you didn't know It's Black Mafia Life for life- fool Above The muthafuckin' Law UBU- what you wanna do Black Hole of Watts To my homies over there an shit And to my funkinmuffin' Coconut We clowns and ...yeah