paroles de chanson It's Funky - Bustdown Vic

Nah but I'm feeling it more and more, ya dig?
You know what I'm saying?
You know? It's going, it really, it really is bro
Okay, yeah Fasholy
I can dig this you feel me this one frfr (mmhhmm yeah, This shits dope, mhhhm)
Ahhhhhhhhh, ah shit! Fuck!
You know what I'm saying? (Yeah bro, Fasholy ya dig?)
Oh my lord hold on (alright what?) (This shits crazy alright hold up aye)

Okay, damn! (Damnnn)
It's getting funky inna booth (inna booth)
Smoking woods in this bitch got me boxing up the stu (it's boxed!)
I might Fuck around and hit em with the truth
I heard they hating on the boy now what the fuck am supposed to do? (I don't know)

I ain't mad cause the suckas finna hate (they finna what?)
I'm just out here on my grind but you should see how I skate (Trey Von)
Always late, to a date or in a cage (what?)
Swear the hustle got me trapping, money making motivates me (I like that)

Coming up from the Lincoln's to the benjis
Steady chiefin got us stinking, mobbin in the homies Lexus (daum)
Y'all up now, but it's pressure cause we next up
Too sick for this shit I need a doctor for a check up (I'm too Ill)

All I want is the motherfucking cake
We got some pounds of some good, hit you with a good rate (what you need?)
Smoking gas, gatta go hit up the bank
We getting hyphy stank face while we listening to Mac Dre huh (urrhh urghhh)

I'm not friendly cause I know the suckas faking
I'm just looking for the guap I know they looking into snaking (huh, why?)
No nerds or even urkels in the circle
see y'all smoking on some brown, you ever see the color purple? (Purple)

Purple puffin got me thinking pick a pound up
If I get it from the boy he finna throw a couple ounces (daauuummmm alight LJ I see you)
Money making movement really be the anthem (ah, I see you)
But you sitting on your ass so we calling a random

Okay damn fuck, I'm fadded off this blunt
This my 4th one homie cause one just ain't enough
That ain't runtz that some bunk, That's Fucking up yo lungs
Passing off that shit to me type of shit to get you punched (get you punched)

I'm feeling bored take a trip down south (down south)
All the way to the border meet my primo for the pounds
Head on the swivel I know them jakes
around
I Can't get pulled over cuz the whip smells like loud

But I'm chilling take the whip to get a detail
Fresh whip Im in love with dee smell
Fuck all that I'll put in for my cousins bail
Story's of all those cold nights he spent up in that cell

These pump fakes stale crack them like a taco shell
Step up in the ring, get knocked out once they ring the bell
Ima bring them hell I keep my distance they gone tell
I weighted a brick on Paco's shit damn near broke the fucking scale

I'll throw up this B then the D it stands for bustdown
Why would they run up, ah they'll just get stomped out
How they just pull-up but didn't hop out?
That's just tells me it ain't funk they just want clout

Talking hellcat I'm steer that
Where the my compition? Oh yeah where the rear at
I see the hate in the air like damn where the real at?
Too stupid off the hyphy better send my ass off to rehab (Bitch)