Plunken 'Em

With the electric soul shock, body rock and rolling Take a David T walk to that corner liquor store And mama wants a new pack of George Benson & Hedges They mentholated To all my P fans I'm glad you waited We graduated from paying dues to sitting on the porch Brothers playing the blues in search of more pews To fill up the funk church The masses massive tabernacle it cracklely wax To sample the man full of holy drums (You guys are rolling bums) With swollen thumbs, we walk through slums Find some bottle with wood done, ya Stand up Cool with the rhythm Get down Stand up Cool with the rhythm Get all Yo, it's the art of fresh music not that artificial crap That the people calling rap, yo we getting rid of that We Rat Packing the beat, till we feel it's complete Break beats getting discovered Some get flipped to outnumber The weak drum machines, don't use 'em won't abuse 'em Getting funky like drunky Call us the groove junkies And we gotta have a fix every minute on the dot Just the {drum kicks} And we tearing up your block You can hear it up the street You can hear it in your sleep Booming out the record stores while you at the swap meet Macking to a seven feet Crunching on a two piece Said it'll make your day fucked up people, just trust me We back on the three dot, booming in your ghetto blaster Till midnight, feel right and party till you drop Hip hop live in the flesh, keep it well dressed Hands pushing up Now all I wanna see you do is Stand up Cool with the rhythm Get down Stand up Cool with the rhythm Get all Groove to the rhythm, something new to give 'em I prove the rhythm choose the women like night swimming in a hot tub And Double K got dubs We rock clubs like Tiger Woods Giving up funk for goods To Howard Robinson and Beverly Wood [?] Eating cheeseburgers with my pals, going home to lounge In the styles of my predecessors The B-Boy, never the less, the S, the western born That early morn' to that yes yes y'all Thes rock like a new clock on top of the school hall Ringing roll call Professor head shake, monitor the gym hall Up taking out the fakes With a twelve string incision Reinvent the rhythm The cats that's living just like us Now envision a mathematician giving up a calculator Ayo that's me without the funk, Double K rock the cross fader Yo we got the whole world under surgery for funk transplants Making music not hood so yo we don't got the look We got bad memory, a gang of records and fans Mad plans to keep it live with just the blink of an eye Yeah we thought that you thought that we wasn't coming back We turned around and smacked that clown (Who told you that?) We too cool for our britches, putting stitches on your zip disc Get this, hip hop is the drug and we in rehab Just be glad, that you don't live close to us Then you see most of us And we be known to bust With no [?] junior should've learned a little sooner It's the two forties in the tight ish running to ya Two villains in the car chase (crash!) Throw your roadblock of weak beats Continuing the mission through the streets Of the angel town With my Steeley Dan Brown While I groove with the rhythm, move with the rhythm Get off with it I'm about to quit it but before I step off it's like "Yeah" To the break of daylight it's right Make y'all "Ha ha! Rastafan you son of motherfuck!"