Guerrilla Funk Songtext
von Paris

Beatin′ down your block, it's the brother with the bomb shit
Comin′ with the sound, makin' underground bomb hits
Doin' ′94, it′s time for some action
I'm askin′, "which one of y'all is down for the count?"
Now, still in the warzone, in ′94 it's on
But I′m full grown, fuckin' with the microphone
P-Dog creepin' in the drop with the dirty eye
Still fuckin′ with the man and it′s kinda odd
That a nigga roll down and let the shit to go
Still gotta pray for the L.A. replay
Black folks still braindead to the truth
But I still got love, so I'm comin′ through
With a trunk full of funk that I make ya
Separate the real from the fake each and everyday
Understand it's a must that I tear shit up
And I still won′t budge
And that's deep
We got that shit that you can feel
And ya know we′re comin' real, baby
Ya know it's hidden in ya trunk


Righteous, Guerrilla Funk, baby
Right back up in ya with the mothafuckin′ dose
Of the truth and you House-niggas can′t come close
To the P-R, the O, B-L-A-C-K
Still lookin' for a way to make us rise each and every day
Brothers, listen to the sound when I bump
P-Dog, and I′m hittin' ya in ya trunk with the funk
Got that down home shit ya love
I never slipped chippin′ with the monster bug
You know it go on and on and I won't stop
Comin′ with the militant grooves that'll keep y'all spirits lit
Long as niggas keep dyin′, I′m a keep servin'
Hip-hop ′til the bullshit stops
Back in the name of Allah, the one true God
Stand tall, bringin' truth to all y′all
So buck that devil and pass me the fish bitch
And know I never switch hit
And that's deep
We got the shit that you can feel
And ya know we′re comin' real, baby
Ya know it's hidden in ya trunk
Righteous, Guerrilla Funk, baby Take a listen to the sound, ′cause, um
It′s goin' down, baby (That′s the law)
Ya know we keep it on the one
Righteous, Guerrilla Funk, baby
One more dead Black man
You can ask K-Cloud 'cause this shit is out of hand
All I do is see the world just stand around and watch
Niggas drop like flies around the clock
But I never underestimate the fact
That America still hate Blacks, so I gotta act
Ever since I was three-fifths of a man
It was clear that somebody had to take a stand
So I strive to survive in a place
Where your worth is determined by a race, ain′t that a bitch?
Nothin' funny from where I′m comin' from so I don't
Wear a smile ′cause I know they got me on file
Long as niggas gotta live in they cellhole
I′m a freak the motherfuckin' funk so the people know
And recognize that as long as young brothers stay ′sleep
We born to die, shit, and that's deep
Oh, once again, right back once again back at ya
P-Dog, still up in ya trunk
Comin′ to ya straight from the anti-gangsta
I give you, Guerrilla Funk