Common - Food for Funk lyrics
Common [Lonnie Rashid Lynn] Chicago, Illinois, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Common - Food for Funk lyrics]
What, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo yo yo, yo, yo, yo, yo check it, yo
You say a one for the trouble
Two for the time
Come on y'all, let's rock that, uh
I can feel the funk
I come to grips with mics
I come to grips that a lot
Of mic users is dikes
I come to grips with the
Likes of Fred Hampton cold, so I'm lampin
With no need for spotlight
When I got light like an intersection
You talk
But you came to my town with protection
Election year, had the block hot
I scream "fuck the world" but having
A baby girl sorta cock-blocked
I write rhymes like I come
From the windy city
With my crew, I click like simply
Stand midi with reality
Casually, I walk through these war games
Some claim saved but then they
Take on whore names
If that's the way your sex drives
Stay in your lane if you're a man
I can't tell like if the door rang now
Now, to the ladies in the house
When you come in the place
It ain't a bunch of niggas
All up in your face the music is thumpin and
You're feelin the bass
What you wanna do girl
To the brothas when you come in a jam
It ain't a bunch of niggas
It ain't high tech and
Ain't got free liquor
You jackin his name and stick to
Make you jones get thicker
What you wanna do man? Yo, check it
Some niggas be on the mic
Sounding like dikes
Allow me to get on and bust like Spike
Lee, I'm in the majors with no rotation
Through stations of bullshit
I see through like a pager
In the age of Aquarius, various things
Is gonna carry us in intellect
And what have you
Street astrologists interpret point stars
And half moons
Then end up on garages or walls in bathrooms
Every black moon, a rap tune move me
The rap sun, I rain more than Rudy
That unruly shit is played it don't stop
It's time to get it, get it made
I got my mind made up like Foxy Brown's face
I know how the underground tastes
I want a crib from the ground up
Rooms spin at a round pace
Get down based on true story, through Corey
Came close to the teachers
Colder as the Iceman
Posted before it start wrinklin
Linkin with cats
Who don't react to change in the years
Fulfill prophesies in rooms
Full of emptiness, now
I can feel the funk
I came through the corridor, with the aura
Raw Chicago mora, scope the horror
Read between the lines and know the border
Some pop wines for juice, I wait in the water
Waitin for you Big Willie niggas to
Have a show at The Crib
We gon get with your glamour
Long as we know where it is
Tell you ain't a player by your
Sweater doused with wack feather
The Crib got the gangsta playa
Shit patent like black leather
I rap better than you, you, or maybe him
But I am like a tree and
Every lyric is a timb
Spilled brews and greasy foods
Got my car smelly some be so high
They believe they fly like R kelly
But then they fall off
Dusted niggas is gettin sawed off
They fall soft
My mental lift is for me to haul off
I kick ass
I can feel the funk
Yo, yo yo yo, yo, yo, yo, yo check it, yo
You say a one for the trouble
Two for the time
Come on y'all, let's rock that, uh
I can feel the funk
I come to grips with mics
I come to grips that a lot
Of mic users is dikes
I come to grips with the
Likes of Fred Hampton cold, so I'm lampin
With no need for spotlight
When I got light like an intersection
You talk
But you came to my town with protection
Election year, had the block hot
I scream "fuck the world" but having
A baby girl sorta cock-blocked
I write rhymes like I come
From the windy city
With my crew, I click like simply
Stand midi with reality
Casually, I walk through these war games
Some claim saved but then they
Take on whore names
If that's the way your sex drives
Stay in your lane if you're a man
I can't tell like if the door rang now
Now, to the ladies in the house
When you come in the place
It ain't a bunch of niggas
All up in your face the music is thumpin and
You're feelin the bass
What you wanna do girl
To the brothas when you come in a jam
It ain't a bunch of niggas
It ain't high tech and
Ain't got free liquor
You jackin his name and stick to
Make you jones get thicker
What you wanna do man? Yo, check it
Some niggas be on the mic
Sounding like dikes
Allow me to get on and bust like Spike
Lee, I'm in the majors with no rotation
Through stations of bullshit
I see through like a pager
In the age of Aquarius, various things
Is gonna carry us in intellect
And what have you
Street astrologists interpret point stars
And half moons
Then end up on garages or walls in bathrooms
Every black moon, a rap tune move me
The rap sun, I rain more than Rudy
That unruly shit is played it don't stop
It's time to get it, get it made
I got my mind made up like Foxy Brown's face
I know how the underground tastes
I want a crib from the ground up
Rooms spin at a round pace
Get down based on true story, through Corey
Came close to the teachers
Colder as the Iceman
Posted before it start wrinklin
Linkin with cats
Who don't react to change in the years
Fulfill prophesies in rooms
Full of emptiness, now
I can feel the funk
I came through the corridor, with the aura
Raw Chicago mora, scope the horror
Read between the lines and know the border
Some pop wines for juice, I wait in the water
Waitin for you Big Willie niggas to
Have a show at The Crib
We gon get with your glamour
Long as we know where it is
Tell you ain't a player by your
Sweater doused with wack feather
The Crib got the gangsta playa
Shit patent like black leather
I rap better than you, you, or maybe him
But I am like a tree and
Every lyric is a timb
Spilled brews and greasy foods
Got my car smelly some be so high
They believe they fly like R kelly
But then they fall off
Dusted niggas is gettin sawed off
They fall soft
My mental lift is for me to haul off
I kick ass
I can feel the funk