Funky Behavior

It's the funk
Nothin can save ya

I step up on the scene, you see my team's droopy
I'm comin tight and never soupy
Booty-ass lyrics don't strive in my camp
Niggas keep poppin that weak but I can't
I keep a low pro and this Rube ain't a soloist
I ain't a new jack hustler, Busta Brown
I been around these parts for a while
Layin down tracks like tow
Now you can't solve a problem if it's not debated
And it's not a problem if it's cock-related
Cause I'm on the grind till the day I die, hoe
What the fuck do I gots to lie fo'?
Nothin can save ya from the funky behavior
I let my crop on the top meet the razor
And roll around town with the clown frown of my mug shot
Servin out dopefiend deadshots

I try to hold and get a piece while the fools slip
And keep an attitude and never lose grip
And watch for the jacks and the stray lead
And maintain peace in my gone head
But still it's gettin hectic
And all I'm really tryin to do is find an exit
So I drift to the soundproof and show skills
Fuckers feel me every time my snap spills
I aim to have my own, duke
Everything that I need in a month or two
So now you feel the pressure when you spot funk
Potna Deuce is in the house and never got skunk
I play the back cool and let my throat strain
Diggin in the middle for the big game
Behavior's full of funk for the rough poke
V-Town, the city for the downstroke

Now I'm too funked out for my playas
And I'm not trippin off you other muthafuckas
Bitch, I'm still puffin on the Taylors
And I'm never gon' give it up
(Hey man, y'all need to stop bullshittin, man)
We do it our way, you can do it yours
Fuck around, let us blow your doors
'Baby got back' - nah, baby got bomb
So peep game like a peeping tom
Beatin them batties down till they hot
Her mama's comin home so I can't get cock
After the nut I got to cut and bounce like that
The yak was fat, but I forgot my hat
But still I gotta leave with my dick on bruise
Dat's my potna, them my fools
Automatic causin havoc, though
Cause that funky behavior got me way too fuckin towed