This is a Misdemeanor exclusive If your radio is experiencing any kind of difficulties Turn the volume up Yes, turn the volume up Yes, turn the volume up This is an exclusive (Turn the volume up)
It's very necessary, on the contrary No you do not scare me, is you drinkin' Bloody Mary? But shit, you betta hurry, before I have to bury My attitude is bitchy, 'cause my period is heavy I used to drive a Chevy, put twenties on that baby My nigga was the shit, but then that stupid nigga left me And now I'm lovin' Larry, but Larry go with Terri And Terri is a freak, but it's his baby she will carry The life he live's a fairy, cartoon like "Tom and Jerry" My flow is legendary and your style is temporary Yeah, you need to worry, like Jason, it gets scary The words that I spit don't fit in that category Is my vision blurry? My speech is very slurry Me without Tim is like Jamaicans with no curry And yes, it's necessary, so hurry, nigga, hurry 'Cause when this album drops, you whack MC's will all get buried
[Chorus:] Funky fresh dressed to impress ready to party Funky fresh dressed to impress (Turn the volume up) Funky fresh dressed to impress ready to party Funky fresh dressed to impress (Turn the volume up) Funky fresh dressed to impress ready to party Funky fresh dressed to impress (Turn the volume up) Funky fresh dressed to impress ready to party Funky fresh dressed to impress (Turn the volume up)
Your style's very crummy, that's why you have no money You always looking bummy, I don't care if you don't love me Don't try to come before me, unless you are a dummy Repeat, you'll lose your teeth and I would hate to call you gummy Rainy or sunny, battle no way, honey This not a game of hide-and-seek, go call ya mummy It's about get so ugly, and I'ma keep why'all runnin' Hiding from me, 'cause you know you are weak You ain't sayin' nothin', I keep it jumpin' jumpin' In your Kenwoods, I'm bumpin' sumthin' in ya trunk'n You can say I'm buggin', 'cause when I come out bustin' That's why why'all be discussin' who I like and who I'm fuckin'
I had a little homie named Paul Revere Smokes blunt after blunt, guzzled forties of beer He would swear up and down every first of the year He was gon' quit smokin', but he never did Watch why'all huskey, it's about that time Gettin' ready for the club 'round quarter til' nine Couple bottles of hypnotic in the back of the ride Might spit like a girl, but I hit like a guy Me and Missy ballin' up the avenue Funky fresh dressed to impress, we mackin' dudes Music biz only reason I ain't jackin fools You know bullshit walk and stackin' rules Shit keeps drawin', the streets keep callin' Drink til' I'm nice and uh, uh-uh, on'n I'm bad luck, why'all mad 'cause why'all suck Please do not try to fuck with young duck Please do not try to fuck with young duck
Songwriters: MOSLEY, TIMOTHY Z./YOUNG, CHEVON D./PARKER, LAWRENCE KRSONE/JONES, DERRICK T./MYERS, DWIGHT/PARKER, RAMONA L./SMITH, JAMES TODD/WILLIAMS, JOSEPH/BOLTON, GLENN K./DAVIS, DOUGLAS L./DEWESE, MOHANDAS/DRAYTON, WILLIAM JONATHAN/HAMILTON, ARNOLD E./RIDENHOUR, C