Way 2 Fonky

Oh yes I'm new and improved, and to a funky-ass groove

My name is Quik and I'm smooth, and I'm makin yo' ugly bitch move

With the streets you can't lose, but if you still wanna choose

To be a sucka, I got a 380 punk, so duck her

And to you motherfuckers thinkin' you wanna fade me?

I'm runnin' the underground, so fool, you're crazy

And you better step, 'fore I beat you with a switch

And tie you up and make you watch, while I'm fuckin' yo' bitch

'Cause I'm a low-pro nigga that you should not fol-low

Puttin' suckaz in the wind cause my voice is hol-low

Put the pistol to your grill and your punk ass rolls

You grab my shit and I pull the trigger now you're missin' a nose

And umm, I don't fear your crew because my back is got

Chasin' nothin' but the suckaz when we hit yo' spot

Yeah, straight Bronx Killa, mark ass niggaz can't check me

But gotta respect me, 'cause I'm Way 2 Fonky

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, yeah

Now no sooner than I hit the fuckin' streets

People be approachin' me, all throughout the swap meets

Askin' me shit like, when your new album comin' out?

is it different? is it dope? Where yo' perm? What you talkin' 'bout?

I know you don't expect that a nigga gon' quit

Bein' nothin' less than funky and bangin' out the dope-ass hits

'Cause DJ-Quik is a name that I take much much pride in

No ego's to hide in and no limos to ride in

Maybe a cutlass or two, but still the same ol' shit

And me unclever? No never, I'll have this talent forever

The producer get funky down to the last ounce

And I'm creative too so I don't need mo' bounce

But to you suckaz in my city claimin' I got a def wish

You should try again fool, you ain't hittin' near this

Them wack ass tracks, make you sound like a monkey

Just a shot in the dark, from a punk-ass mark who ain't fonky

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, yeah

Now when you records ain't that funky then it's easy to disrespect this

'Cause you know that when I hit I didn't miss

Just like that I'm born and raised, you wish you could fade

And when you picked up that album cover you knew I was paid, Tim

Cause we ain't goin' out and we ain't stuck in that old school shit

That boring flavor that just don't hit

Cause this is ninety-two, and yes yo' style is through

And if your record ain't sellin' well fool I thought you knew

That this is straight Bronx Killa, straight Bronx Murda

Yeah yo' city's a dump, and fool yo' shit don't bump

And 'member the jack the rapper? yeah, your punk ass sat

That's when my homeboy d, was bout to flatten yo' cap

And you apologized to him, started kissin' his ass

Sayin' you only dissed Compton for the money

So he gave you a pass but you ain't movin' shit on the streets

Get off the nuts of my city with them wack ass beats that ain't fonky

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop

Fonky yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, fonky, you know I can't stop