Yo! C'mon, c'mon [Fame] It's the M, dot O, dot P, ohh! [Will] M, dot O, dot P, ohh! [Both] M, dot O, dot P FIYAH! FIYAH! [Chorus One: M.O.P.] [Fame] Now, fill yo' cups up (PUT IT IN THE AIR) Lift yo' drinks up and (PUT IT IN THE AIR) Get your hand dapped baby (PUT IT IN THE AIR) I'm feelin like fuck the world, is you wit me? Middle fingers up! (PUT IT IN THE AIR) Yeah, middle fingers up (PUT IT IN THE AIR) Now, show me the hand you pop that thang with Index fingers up (PUT IT IN THE AIR) [Verse One: Lil' Fame] Bust down, bust any mic you hand to me I'm Fitzroy nigga (what) First Family Mo P's, guns mo' bigga B.K. up in this bitch, what nigga? (STOMPDASHITOUTU!) Don't mess with I Just relax yourself pah, you don't wanna Get your Mets hat twisted, gets fo-fifted Hot blow poppin, get forklifted [Verse Two: Billy Danze] I was a fiend... you can ask my home team Before I fell in love with the 'gnac, I puffed green Always focused and double toasted When the shit pop off in the club, we ownzed it So now, y'all niggaz get down (LAY DOWN) And stay down (WE RIP POUNDS) and split rounds (OH!) Spark it (M) dot (O) dot (P) dot We rock, hip-hop, awkward, stompin [Chorus Two: M.O.P.] [Fame] Roll up your trees and (PUT IT IN THE AIR) Puff puff, pass (PUT IT IN THE AIR) Get your hand dapped baby (PUT IT IN THE AIR) I'm feelin like fuck the world, is you wit me? Middle fingers up! (PUT IT IN THE AIR) Yeah, middle fingers up (PUT IT IN THE AIR) Now, show me the hand you pop that thang with Index fingers up (PUT IT IN THE AIR) [Verse Three: Lil' Fame] Fuck y'all, we rude, call dick, in the middle of Times Square Get down or lay down, bitch boy, this our year Last summer we jammed, but this summer we hittin Totin Bernie Macs for all y'all summabiches In the hood where it's ugly (it's ugly!) I'm sick with the pen, fuck it just call me Iceberg Charlie The illest the realest Brownsvillest the shit'll never stop It's (Brooklyn) home of the hot blocks [Verse Four: Billy Danze] You can find me on the back block, e'rybody know me I'm admired by the homey that's runnin the crack spot I love to see the shorties with a little G in 'em It's like lookin in the mirror I see a little me in 'em Stop buggin, the homey said dig him (I never dug him) He disrespected this family long enough so I'll slug him (WARRIORZ!) We earn our respect (SHIT) Cut through your projects with shiny objects (NOW) [Chorus One] [Ad libs to end]

Ay, ay [Incomprehensible] Ay man, what is it man? Who own the record man? Man, who the hell are you man? Walkin' up on me man, lookin' like you so broke, man If it cost three cents to shit, you'd have to throw up You know who own the record Man, why don't you sit your ignorant ass down, man and listen So is it my turn again? Yeah, nigga it's yours Oh, I done kick a funky verse for the P-funk? Of course Well, count down nigga to end for these fakers Bet we hit this time and we fade no takers Who thought the funk was despondent out the Westside Not be along for the ride but it's only for the trees That's right, so peep the shot And if I get it hot, baby, I'ma rock the twat 'Cus ain't no party like a party in the Penthouse suite And you know how we do it, baby, yo Tree So if the mack of the smack brings fear To them perpetrators right, when they was cowards right from the very start Pretendin' theys the ones that true But pimp who is they foolin'? Not me or you Fools confused, thinkin' we's on a decline 'Cus we kicks the P's and tell 'em about the funk this time Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Comin' at that ass again, it don't stop Bust a lean in yo 64 shift, take a hop to the top Where the hustlas hang out Endo remains to sprout, [Incomprehensible] knows what I'm talking about And gets host from my block to your neighborhood Tell 'em Quik, when you know it's back to no good I wish you would 'cus I'm true to this gangsta shit Now take a Tic Tac and bust 'em like a hoe in the hood, bitch Took my endz ho They say it's never enough you know I gots to have mo' but I'ma shake the spot infact I just jacked his trick and his fo' so I can crack-a-lack And straight P-funk anytime It's only right you peeped the rhyme, I got to take mine Check yo ass with the shit that stank 'Cus 2-Tone came to the game, ain't a damn thang changed Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk It's the 1 to the 9 with the 9 to the 4 When I thought you knew the drill but you still don't hear me though Kam and Watts up, from The Grass Roots No daisy duke shit, knockin' crazy ass boots Nigga please, we kick it like G'z Puttin' down work when I lurk don't even sneeze, fuck the Goldies That's just the Eastside way of getting chips When your raise up chillin' with the dogs and the rips New cars get tagged, ridas get wrecked Niggas caps get peeled back and chins get checked Don't expect no love, boy, no apology Kids ain't fallin' for yo child psychology In 9 and 4, mindin' yo business is the best bitch Screamin',? Watts riot?, we ain't even made a mess yet Ya shouldn't speak with a weak heart You got to finish everything you start And ain't a damn thang changed Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Now niggas transform like deceptive cons We'll slice your ass up like Jeffrey Don Quik drop bombs on the P-funk tip Even though a nigga rap, you'll still get that ass whipped Please don't slip, ain't a damn than changed Numb yo ass up like some nova cane Have you all fucked up like you smoked some loot Hi-C still sippin' pussy like soup We got Kam, Hamm, New D and Quik And me myself, Mista Big Dick No I might not know which bitch that I want But I know on thing, I got to have the funk From ya speaker and not from ya ass 'Cus some of y'all bitches just won't take baths Hand picked niggas, just can't me tang 'Cus we true to the game and ain't a damn thang changed Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Nothing has changed (Nothing has) Got to have the funk Can ya tell me? Who that nigga flipped? Goddamn muthafucka, it's the Gangsta D Kickin' shit for these niggas and all these bad necks 'Cus I got the dope shit for each and every set, next Up on line, it's that black ass K I could never switch it for ya 'cus I'm still the same way Me and D can flip the shit, kick down a funky flow We represent the P-Funk, you know what it stand for Now back up in yo ass again, it's mista Quik and I clown I got the shit that shake 'em down Break 'em down, take 'em down and now that I'm Chillin' with niggas mista 2-Tone, 2nd II None Playa Hamm and Kam well, goddamn Doin' it like we do it, ain't nuttin' but trues to it Rollin' with the funky 'P', I thought you knew it 'Cus it's nothin' but the best for the trues from the West Side 'Cus ain't nuttin' changed and you know that's right Yeah, this is General Jeff, bringin' up the rear Lettin' ya know we representin' With a all-start line up for that ass, peep this out We got Quik, 2nd II None, Hi-C, Playa Hamm 2-Tone and that nigga Kam If that don't move your ass, I don't know what will But no matter what, you gots to keep the P in it That's mandatory, baby 'cus ain't nuttin' changed

Uhn, yeah, uh-huh... Rock with it, rock with it Rock with it and Clap your hands and Roll with it, roll with it, roll with it and Rock with it, rock with it, rock with it and It's natural, baby Uh, M.E.D Yeah Came so easy when I wrote this Reason they hate so hard... Man Trade call cause their hand they fail all We separate weak from the strong Now your lawful golddiggers never let girls evolve Separate love from the horn Street methods, reflection and there's no face Beef hard to swallow with no taste At least I die on my feet, ain't defeat No coward dead with a heartbeat In park fleet hood in the hood with K Ridge Madlib connect land like bay bridge Same kids didn't hoop a loop this (What'up?) Can't stop hip hop since '86 (Represent) Ask you chick what's her favorite disc Don't hate when she mentioned this shit Classic Timeless everlasting music next generation passing Hear melodies feel memories flashing Tears to the laughing Classic Blast through years still blasting J Dill, 2Pac, time traveling For the masses, black and latins Turn it up React with classics Life (How ya' doin'?) It's a honor and pleasure I treasure being the voice Of the children of the Lesser God gonna test ya' You gotta survive When they apply the pressure And give you a shock like a lie detector Where were you when they were passing out Karma Don't let me black out on you I'm blasting outta space Like the astronaut farmer Cause the inner city grios is obsessed with the kilos Homie your range is shorter than Danny Devito So ain't nobody planning the sequel Jumping jet Could land on your ego We go Next level like Show and A. G You get the picture clearer than slow motion on the HD TVs I witnessed the death of the CD Liberate yourself from that format and be free These dudes trying to be new instead of classic You represent your block, my crew is intergalactic And we, and we... Timeless everlasting music next generation passing Hear melodies feel memories flashing Tears to the laughing Classic Blast through years still blasting J Dill, 2Pac, time traveling For the masses, black and latins Turn it up React with classics Material, yeah, yeah, yeah Material, uh-huh Classic Uh-huh, Material...