Rhymes Too Funky Pt. 1 Lyrics - It's A Compton Thang - Compton's Most Wanted

Who's playing all that damn loud-ass music out there? 

(With the funky piano...) --> Chuck D 

Turn that shit 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 niggas off this goddamn street 

I got to sleep now 

(Compton's in the house) 

(Yeah) 

[ VERSE 1: MC Eiht ] 

Yeah, killin off suckers, 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, sucker better put it back 

I'm slappin dumb girls cause my rhymes on hit 

But on the smooth tip, kickin that butt 

Had too much St. Ides, and started throwin it up 

Super lyricist, yeah, cold in fact 

I'm sprayin all you faggot fake MC jacks 

Boy, I smack and rack and pack and stack 

To smash all the sucker 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 shit until I call a punk's bluff 

Put you on to punishment, Eiht is like your father 

Wanna beg? Sucker, 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 suckers 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 suckers 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 suckers don't jock me like a backstreet junkie 

Cause C.M.W.'s cold runnin it, rhymes too funky