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Fun Lovin' Criminals Come Find Yourself Smoke 'em Hey muneka, I think I wanna take ya back to the lab, with my gift of gab and a little dab'll do ya, maybe even school ya, I'll rush your end zone like my man Don Shula you're my four leaf clover even bending over; I love you like rover; I'm your little lawnmower but, lower, lower, I'm the seed sower the funky weed grower, the mad rap thrower. See, I'm a man's man; do you understand? What I'm giving ain't cocked in the palm of my hand. So take the nasty plunge plaid not grunge. I know it's really hard when you love someone. You always stood by me like Spanky did Stymiey and if anybody messes I'll bust'em in the eye. And check that ass like Phil Esposito the guido, U.P.S. next day back to Toledo. Smoke 'em if ya gottem, if ya ain't gottem then ya hit rock bottom. Me and my Les Paul is out droppin' science pocket full of blunts and a full carry license never walking streets, lookin' past my shouler acting kinda bolder since my dog got older; I walked the walk and I aced the test when I put the pressure on all your tendencies manifest I'm a half spick peckerwood talkin' to the dead I'll break into your house and I'll smell your bed. Smoke 'em if ya gottem, if ya ain't gottem then ya hit rock bottom. |
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