Way 2 Fonky

Oh yes, I'm new and improved, and to a fonky-ass groove

My name is Quik and I'm smooth

I'm makin' your ugly bitch move

With the streets you can't lose, but if you still wanna choose

To be a sucker, I got a .380, punk, so duck her

And to you motherfuckers thinkin' you wanna fade me

I'm runnin' the underground so, fool, you're crazy

And you better step 'fore I beat you with a switch

And tie you up and make you watch while I'm fuckin' your bitch

'Cause I'm a low-pro **** that you should not follow

Puttin' suckers in the wind 'cause my points is hollow

Put the pistol to your grill and your punk-ass rolls

You grab my shit and I pull the trigger

Now you're missin' a nose, and um

I don't fear your crew 'cause my back is got

Chasin' nothin' but these suckers when we hit your spot

Yeah, straight Bronx killer, mark ass **** can't check me

But gotta respect me, 'cause I'm way 2 fonky

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky (You know I can't stop)

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky (You know I can't stop)

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky (You know I can't stop)

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, yeah

Now no sooner than I hit the fuckin' streets

People be approachin' me all throughout the swap meet

Askin' me shit like (When your new album comin' out?)

(Is it different?)

(Is it dope?)

(Where your perm?)

What you talkin' 'bout?

I know you don't expect that a **** gon' quit

Bein' nothin' less than fonky and bangin' out the dope-ass hits

'Cause DJ Quik is a name that I take much, much pride in

No egos to hide in and no limos to ride in

Maybe a Cutlass or two, but still the same old shit

And me un-clever, no never, I'll have this talent forever

The producer get funky down to the last ounce

And I'm creative too, so I don't need More Bounce

But to you suckers in my city claimin' I got a death wish

You should try again, fool, you ain't hittin' near this

Them wack-ass tracks make you sound like a monkey

Just a shot in the dark from a punk-ass mark who ain't fonky

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky (You know I can't stop)

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky (You know I can't stop)

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky (You know I can't stop)

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky, yeah

Now, when your records ain't that fonky

Then it's easy to disrespect this

'Cause you know that when I hit I didn't miss

Just like that I'm Born and Raised, you wish you could fade

And when you picked up that album cover, you knew I was paid, Tim

'Cause we ain't goin' out and we ain't stuck in that old school shit

That boring flavor that just don't hit

'Cause this is '92 and, yes, your style is through

And if your record ain't sellin' well, fool, I thought you knew

That this is straight Bronx killer, straight Bronx murder

Yeah, your city's a dump and, fool, your shit don't bump

And remember that Jack the Rapper?

Yeah, your punk-ass sat

That's when my homeboy D was 'bout to flatten your cap

And you apologized to him, started kissin' his ass

Sayin' you only dissed Compton for the money

So he gave you a pass

But you ain't movin' shit on the streets

Get off the nuts of my city with them wack-ass beats

That ain't fonky

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky (You know I can't stop)

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky (You know I can't stop)

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky (You know I can't stop)

Fonky, yeah, fonky, fonky, fonky (You know I can't stop, can't stop)