Letra de canción descargada de: https://www.albumcancionyletra.com ------------------------------------------ Notorious B I G - Machine gun funk ------------------------------------------ [Verse 1:] So you wanna be hardcore With your hat to the back, talkin bout the gats in your raps But I canīt feel that hardcore appeal that youīre screamin, baby Iīm dreamin This ainīt Christopher Williams, still some MCīs got to feel one, caps I got to peel some To let niggaz know... that if you fuck with Big-and-Heavy I get up in that ass like a wedgie Says who? Says me, the lyrical Niggaz sayin, "Biggie off the street, itīs a miracle" Left the drugs alone, took the thugs along with me Just for niggaz actin shifty Sticks and stones break bones, but the gatīll kill you quicker Especially when Iīm drunk off the liquor Smokin funk by the boxes, packin glocks is natural to eat you niggaz like chocolates The funk baby [Chorus 8x] "I live for the funk, Iīll die for the funk" (LOTUG, Chief Rocka) [Verse 2:] All I want is bitches, big booty bitches Used to sell crack, so I could stack my riches Now I pack gats, to stop all the snitches from stayin in my business, what is this? Relentless approach, to know if Iīm broke or not Just cause I joke and smoke a lot Donīt mean I donīt tote the glock Sixteen shots for my niggaz in the pen Until we motherfuckin meet again Huh, Iīm doin rhymes now, fuck the crimes now Come on the ave, Iīm real hard to find now Cause Iīm knee deep in the beats In the Land Cruiser Jeep with the Mac-10 by the seats For the jackers, the jealous ass crackers in the (car sirens) Iīll make you prove that itīs bulletproof Hold ya head, cause when you hit the bricks I got gin, mad blunts, and bitches suckin dick The funk baby [Repeat chorus] [Verse 3:] So I guess you know the story, the rap-side, crack-side How I smoked funk, smacked bitches on the backside Bed-Stuy, the place where my head rests Fifty shot clip if a nigga wanī test The rocket launcher, Biggie stomped ya High as a motherfuckin helicopter Thatīs why I pack a nina, fuck a misdeameanor Beatin motherfuckers like Ike beat Tina (Whatīs Love, Got to Do) when Iīm rippin all through your whole crew Strapped like bamboo, but I donīt sling guns I got bags of funk, and itīs sellin by the tons Niggaz wanna know, how I live the mack life Making money smoking mics like crack pipes Itīs type simple and plain to maintain I add a little funk to the brain The funk baby [Repeat chorus]