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redman - tonight's the night lyrics
[redman]
mic check, i can get smooth to any groove
relax the tongue, let my mic take a cruise
around the planet, pack em in like janet
jackson, she’s askin if i can slam it
i’m….
[hurricane g]
yo yo redman! man what the f-ck man?
get the f-ck off that.. punk smoov sh-t man!
get with that rough sh-t man, you know how we do!
[redman]
mic check, i walk around the streets with a black tech nine
by the waistline, kickin the hype sh-t
i never claim to be the best type of rapper
but hafta, show them motherf-ckers what i’m after
i’m after the gold, then after that the platinum
beef after that, hurricane g packs the gat son
trigger, bang, bang, yo bust the slang, whut my name?
it’s the redman on the funk thang
psyche, you’re motherf-ckin right, tonight’s the night
to do what i wanna do, to do it like dynamite
the work perfected, when the funk been ejected
i roughen up the rough draft to like make your head split
punk! p-ss the 40 and the blunt and don’t front
on the block, cause when you do front, brothers are gettin stomped
i’m not a addict, more like puff than magic
then p-ss it when i’m through cause my crew gots to have it
i don’t claim to be a big rap star
cause no matter who you are, you’ll still catch a bullet scar
so listen up and take heed to what i’m sayin
cause tonight’s the night and me and my n-gg-z ain’t playin
fat black b-tch! nasty..
bush bear, booga breath b-tch
nasty, talk to your t-ts b-tch
with them nasty africans, mr. bojangles
turned up shoes havin -ss..
lemming leprechaun haircut motherf-cker!
you wanna see me get cool, please, save it for the breeze
cause the lyrics and tracks, make me funky like cottage cheese
f-ck the smoov sh-t, i get down wit the boom bip
like q-tip, i kick more styles than bruce shoe’s kick
but tonight’s the night what i write tonight
this type of funk with the flavor like mike’n’ike’s
hanging out wit my n-gg-z, my n-gg-z
the {pack pistol posse} keep they fingers on the triggers
i keep the 40 between my lap, coolin, rollin down the highway
blunt system pumps cause it’s friday
roll over to pick my boys up, we raise a lot of noise
cause, we can do that black, so get the bozack jack
remember, i do the type of evil that men do
like cursin out my window at a b-tch and her friend too
so turn the volume up a notch
and watch the ba-b-mp, ba-b-mp, make ya speakers pop
that’s the funk, when it pumps it makes your rump
jump, jump, jump.. jump, jump, jump
but if you want to see a fly but frantic
cool romantic, more slick=er than my man rick
you better check the yellow pages under smoov sh-t
cause red ain’t down for the bullsh-t
n-gg-z f-cked up by letting me make an alb-m (how come rude bwoy?)
to get on the mic and let my f-ckin style run
nasty f-ckin greenthumb jolly green n-gg-z
tango mango, pickin havin -ss
nasty epileptic disease crazy havin -ss
johnny cash, afro havin
jack of spades, boots havin
tony danza, shoes wearin -ss!
b-b-b-black by popular demand, i expand
my hand to the mic and let my mouth kick the flim flam
i get s-x, i get wreck, i puff mad blunts
i get vexed, i break necks, punch out gold fronts, chump
you…
yo, f-ck that, yo turn this sh-t off man
turn this sh-t off, g
boom the new record on, knahmsayin?
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