[Intro: Dirty Red]
Alright players, Alright Gs
Hustlers, pimps, macks, real niggas and all that
The Time has come, and what a time to drop real gangster poetry on that ass
Ha ha, yeah, comin' at you from the under world, The Aftermath!
A group of underground lunatics brought together on mission
Of destruction
So all you bitches and hoes beware, for what lurks beyond in the darkness
Give too meanin' to the words totally insane
187, mo' motherfucking murderous homicidal skills for you suckers
Stay down and get that ass clowned
KMG, the motherfucking undertaker, the bitch breaker
So hoes if you don't know, now you do
So that's just the first clue from a nigga on a mission
You see, Chronic is way of life, Gs
So spray a peace to mothers and get butted the fuck out
Awww yeah, with dopeness comes a man named Kokane
Influential in amount, believin' in a certain theory
That all players must come correct
Either that or he'll gets no respect
You see, it's all about makin' yours in this life time
So with that said, I would like to introduce one more player in this game
A nigga named Shank, A.K.A. the Kane
A nigga known for breakin' suckas off
So y'all believin' in the theory of elevation
Reason bein, I got the fly... fly... shit for that ass
So here it is players, aww yeah, bitches too
The fly shit for you
So tune in and get faded with The Aftermath, niggas
[Hook: Cold 187um & KMG](x2)
Funk them up
Funk them up, Funk them up, from the Westcoast
Funk them up, Funk them up, Funk them up
Funk them up, Funk them up, from the Eastcoast
Funk them up, Funk them up, Funk them up
[Verse 1: Cold 187um]
Awww, comin' through the motherfuckin' side door
Checkin' all the niggas, and
Clockin' all the hoes
So before you jump up, and get wily like coyote
You better ask your bitch if she knows me (ooooohhhhh)
Cause I got two pounds of baking soda and two pounds of coke
I brought a bitch some Bamby, some papers, so I can smoke
(KMG)So you can call them when you want to, baby
Yah, right, because I've just told you homie the same two nights ago
Or should I say four scores ago
So bow wow, wow, wow, yippi yay, yippi yo, ho
Because to play you is my only wish
Yo, so pass me the skin so I can rush it like Emmitt Smith
And then I have to come boil that ass, toil that ass
Bump that ass and straight funk that ass
I guess you motherfuckers get the clue (what up?)
Soda for the cut up, chuckies to hop to "yeah"
I maybe in your Coupé, or Jeep or your Wagon
I maybe makin' dollars but I'm not braggin'
I give my props to my niggas in the Penhouse, see
For tryin' to come up, Gettin' caught up in the system G
It's like a game, never fit to win
So I'll see you when you get out if not when I get in (Well, alright)
Cause I'm not the Rodney King Part Two
So I'm a smoke one for me and smoke a gang for you
[Verse 2: KMG]
Then you're makin' a nigga, aww shit, the whore gigolo flow
Quick so... what's the word?
I've just set a verse to the hoes with the Deuce on the corner
The green eyed hooker with the juice and the totters
The true black macadamian in Funk pole
Hit the whores, get quick to fade Al Capone
Let me take my hat off
And peep my Madonna, sex magazines
Freak all the nymphos I'm a pussy fiend
Ooh, Mister Mister, twister twister is what they call me
Then they bone me
Hoes on my Diznick, I'm livin' a revelation
I'm kickin' the real shit, fuck the nigga's reputation (fuck it)
Go out to the dome, what up?, I'll straight fuck you
Or told my nigga Shake, .45 to buck you
Or I'm a trip and bring K-Oss at it
Or my nigga Mack fuckin' re-up to Pimp Clinic
So, I'm a ask you a question (what up Loc'?)
Do you wanna die for me? (yeah)
Or do you wanna die for my Kokane at 17-5 a key?
[Verse 3: Dirty Red]
Awww yeah, I sit leanin' on my toners when I'm bellin'
Through the crooked streets deep in Cali' where I'm dwellin'
Sellin' mobile dubs cause I gotta make a dolla'
Feelin' drop the top of my rag-top-grey Impala
I'm jerkin' a local nigga out the do it and sharin' dirt
Got two hoes on the corner and they feeling put in work
Now the pimps, though I ships my pimp
And on the down low, too many hoes will get a nigga in some trouble
And so I'm... bumped the three wheel motion
Hit the corner quick, feeling like the Chronic stick
And get higher than a motherfuker
I got a beap on the sky pager, trick ass bitch
Put the trick on time so it's off to the next day
Yeah, picked up my mobile phone, to make a booty call
Creepin' down Crenshaw, watchin' out for the law (yeah, the motherfuckers)
Cause the police quick to put the nigga on the side of the curb
And take a choke of my burb, G
And leaves a nigga like show
But I ain't want them up, I got the dope from the street motherfuckers
[Interlude: Cold 187um]
Aww yeah, The Aftermath
Journey through this Aftermath
Kokane is here
Here goes Kane, check this out
[Verse 4: Kokane]
Now I'm comin' around, comin' around, comin' around the fuckin' mountain
Wettin' niggas up like a motherfuckin' fountain
So don't clone me, don't get attached
Cause some of you niggas' styles more faker than a Wrazzaler Match
Added preservatives, artifficial flavors
Baking soda free, said I say a fuckin' savior
Give your R&B, house Music, I'll say hell no
Beatin' Donnie Simpson where I be funkin' on the show
Who gives the funk shit like that? you know it's We
Cause G shit came from the concrete
So take a seat in the back jack, known I gots to strap
No longer will there be a white motherfucker dictating what is real rap
You motherfucking hypocrites
Bring your ass as used to promote that heavy metal shit
To the K to the O to the K to the A, to that's N-E we flowwww
My name is Kokane, never askin' the reason I ball
So Bon Voyage I gots the stack
And I'm out Schwarzeneger but I'll be back
(Funkin' you)
