DJ Slip - Rhymes Too Funky Pt. 1 lyrics

Who's playing all that damn loud-a** music out there? (With the funky piano...) --] Chuck D Turn that sh** down, man Don't you know I'm tryin to get some sleep here? (With the funky piano...) --] Chuck D Huh? What you say? I'll go upside your goddamn head, man If you don't put that goddamn music down, man (With the funky piano...) --] Chuck D Woman, call 911 to get these n***as off this goddamn street I got to sleep now (Compton's in the house) (Yeah) [ VERSE 1: MC Eiht ] Yeah, k**in off s**ers, it's me You're stupid tryin to take me for some punk MC? I'm here to tax dollars, raps not cheap Compton's Most Wanted, punk, rollin four deep Gats that I'm packin, s**er better put it back I'm slappin dumb girls cause my rhymes on hit But on the smooth tip, kickin that bu*t Had too much St. Ides, and started throwin it up Super lyricist, yeah, cold in fact I'm sprayin all you f*ggot fake MC jacks Boy, I smack and rack and pack and stack To smash all the s**er MC's in a war-like attack So Chill (What's up?) Tell these punk fools that they ran out of luck (Hey yo Eiht) What's up? (Boy, I think you said enough) Chill, I ain't said sh** until I call a punk's bluff Put you on to punishment, Eiht is like your father Wanna beg? s**er, don't bother Last-place MC's think you can handle this? (1-2-3) Sock em smooth through the canvas It's time to start pumpin, know what I'm sayin Yeah, I got the picture, I commence the sprayin [ VERSE 2: Tha Chill ] Boy, hold up, Tha Chill's on the stage C.M.W. is like a Hub City army brigade Give no slack to no plack or no punk new jack Get racked like that because your rhymes are wack So hit me with your best shot, and boy, you see How Tha Chill and the Eiht drop punk MC's But credit's never due to you s**ers that be fakin it Call it a jack, but yo, I'm just takin it Your money, your gold, your fortune, and your fame So hang it up, because you got no game So just let up, I'm gettin fed up You're talkin trash, punk, just shut up Leave it to Tha Chill, yeah, I take care of business (That's bet, cause Eiht is the witness) A super hype mellow Compton cold chillin lyricist Like a scary movie s**ers play fearin this In fact you're a pole caught in thick asphalt But diss my down posse, yo, I'm droppin the dogs So just chill as Tha Chill explains When it comes to gettin over I know all the game So s**ers don't jock me like a backstreet junkie Cause C.M.W.'s cold runnin it, rhymes too funky C.M.W. - is that you, man? (Yeah!) Keep on playin that sh**, man I like that sh**, man Woman, cancel that 911 call They ain't comin anyway, this is Compton Man, that sh** was gonna sound good in my T-Bird, man