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Food For Funk 由<作者/艺术家>演奏的简单吉他和弦
Common
Common

N/A
Verse 1
Abm

What, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo

Yo, yo yo yo, yo, yo, yo, yo

Check it, yo

You say a one for the trouble,

two for the time

Come on y'all, let's rock that, uh
E

(I can feel the funk) (I can feel the funk) (I can
Abm

feel the funk) (I can feel the funk)

Check it
Verse 2
Abm

I come to grips with mics

I come to grips that a lot

of mic users is dikes

I come to grips with the likes

of Fred Hampton

Cold, so I'm lampin',

with no need for spotlight

When I got light like an intersection,

you talk

But you came to my town

with protection

Election year, had the block hot

I scream fuck the world for having

a baby girl sorta cock block

I write rhymes like I come from

the windy city

With my crew, I click like simply,

stand midi with reality

Casually, I walk through

these war games

Some claim say but then they

take on whore names

If that's the way your sex drives,

stay in your lane

If you're a man,

I can't tell like if the door rang now
Verse 3
Abm

Now, to the ladies in the house when

you come in the place

It ain't a bunch of niggas all

up in your face

The music is thumpin' and

you're feelin' the bass

What you want to do girl (wanna shout)


To the brothas when you come in a jam,

it ain't a bunch of niggas

It ain't high tech and ain't

got free liquor

You jackin his name and stick

to make you jones get thicker

What you want to do man?

Yo, check it
Verse 4
Abm

Some niggas be on the mic,

sounding like dikes

Allow me to get on and

bust like Spike (uh)

Lee, I'm in the majors with no

rotation

Through stations of bullshit,

I see through like a pager

In the age of Aquarius, various things

Is gonna carry us in intellect

and what have you

Street astrologists interpret point

stars and half moons

Then end up on garages

or walls in bathrooms

Every black moon, a rap tune move me

The rap sun,

I rain more than Rudy, that unruly shit is played

It don't stop

It's time to get it, get it made

I got my mind made up

like Foxy Brown's face

I know how the underground tastes

I want a crib from the ground up,

rooms spin at a round pace

Get down based on true story, through Corey,

came close to the teachers

Colder as the Iceman,

posted before it start wrinklin'

Linkin' with cats,

who don't react to change in the years

Fulfill prophesies in rooms full of emptiness,

now
Verse 5
Abm

Now, to the ladies in the house when

you come in the place

It ain't a bunch of niggas

all up in your face

The music is thumpin' and

you're feelin' the bass

What you want to do girl (wanna shout)

To the brothas when you come in a jam,

it ain't a bunch of niggas

It ain't high tech and ain't

got free liquor

You jackin' his name and stick

to make you jones get thicker

What you want to do man?
Verse 6
Abm

(I can feel the funk) (I can feel the funk) (I can

feel the funk) (I can feel the funk)

(I can feel the funk) (I can feel the funk) (I can

feel the funk) (I can feel the funk)

Yo, yo, yo yo yo yo yo, yo check it, check it
Verse 7
Abm

I came through the corridor, with the aura

Raw Chicago mora, scope the horror

Read between the lines and

know the border

Some pop wines for juice,

I wait in the water

Waitin' for you Big Willie niggaz to have

a show at The Crib

We gon' get with your glamour,

long as we know where it is

Tell you ain't a player by your sweater

doused with wack feather

The crib got the gangsta playa shit

patent like black leather

I rap better than you, you, or maybe him

But I am like a tree and every

lyric is a timb

Spilled brews and greasy foods

got my car smelly

Some be so high, they believe

they fly like R. Kelly

But then they fall off,

dusted niggas is gettin' sawed off

They fall soft,

my mental lift is for me to haul off
Verse 8
Abm

Now, to the ladies in the house when

you come in the place

It ain't a bunch of niggas all

up in your face

The music is thumpin' and

you're feelin' the bass

What you want to do girl (wanna shout)

To the brothas when you come in a jam,

it ain't a bunch of niggas

It ain't high tech and ain't

got free liquor

You jackin' his name and stick

to make you jones get thicker

What you want to do man?
Verse 9
Abm

(I can feel the funk) (I can feel the funk) (I can

feel the funk) (I can feel the funk)

(Makes me want to shout,

want to shout)

(I can feel the funk) (I can feel the funk) (I can feel

the funk) (I can feel the funk)

(Makes me want to shout,

want to shout)

(I can feel the funk) (I can feel the funk) (I can

feel the funk) (I can feel the funk)

(Makes me want to shout,

want to shout)

(I can feel the funk) (I can feel the funk) (I can

feel the funk) (I can feel the funk)

(Makes me want to shout,

want to shout)

(I can feel

the funk) (I can feel the funk) (I can

feel the funk) (I can feel the funk)

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