Food For Funk Lyric Common ONE DAY IT'LL ALL MAKE SENSE

Common:
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)(x4)
Check it

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" for having a baby girl sorta cock block
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 say 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

Chorus:

Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place
It ain't a
bunch of niggaz all up in your face
The music is thumpin and you're feelin
the bass
What you wanna do girl(wanna shout)
To the brothas when you
come in a jam, it ain't a bunch of niggaz
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?(let go)
Yo, check it

Some niggaz be on
the mic, sounding like dikes
Allow me to get on and bust like Spike(uh)

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

Chorus:

I can feel the funk(x8)
Yo, check it, check it


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 niggaz 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 niggaz is
gettin sawed off
They fall soft, my mental lift is for me to haul off
I
kick ass

Chorus:
(scratching)
I can feel the funk(x16)(makes me
wanna shout, wanna shout)(x4)
(scratching)Wanna shout

 

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