Tonight's Da Night

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-

Yo, yo, Redman, man, what the fuck, man?

Get the fuck off that punk smooth shit, man

Get with that rough shit, man, you know how we do

Mic check, I walk around the streets with a black TEC-9

By the waistline, kickin' the hype shit

I never claim to be the best type of rapper

But have to show them motherfuckers 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, what my name?

It's the Redman on the funk train

Psych, you're motherfuckin' right, tonight's the night

To do what I wanna do, to do it like dynamite

The work perfected, when the funk been injected

I roughen up the rough draft to like make your head split

Punk, pass the forty and the blunt and don't front

On the block, 'cause when you do front, brothers are gettin' stomped

I'm not an addict, more like Puff the Magic

Then pass 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 niggas ain't playin'

Fat black bitch, nasty

Bush bear, booga breath bitch

Nasty, talk to your tits bitch

With them nasty Africans, Mr. Bojangles

Turned up shoes havin' ass

Lemming leprechaun haircut motherfucker

You wanna see me get cool, please, save it for the breeze

'Cause the lyrics and tracks make me funky like cottage cheese

Fuck the smooth shit, I get down with the boom bip

Like Q-Tip, I kick more styles than Bruce shoes kick

But tonight's the night what I write tonight

This type of funk with the flavor like Mike 'n' Ike's

Hanging out with my niggas, my niggas

The Pack Pistol Posse keep they fingers on the triggers

I keep the forty 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 bitch and her friend too

So, turn the volume up a notch

And watch the ba-bump

Ba-bump, make your speakers pop

That's the funk, when it pumps it makes your rump

Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump, jump

But if you wanna see a fly but frantic

Cool romantic more slicker than my man Rick

You better check the Yellow Pages under smooth shit

'Cause Red ain't down for the bullshit

Niggas fucked up by lettin' me make an album (how come, rude boy?)

To get on the mic and let my fuckin' style run

Nasty fuckin' green thumb Jolly Green niggas

Tango mango, pickin' havin' ass

Nasty epileptic disease crazy havin' ass

Johnny Cash, afro havin'

Jack of Spades, boots havin'

Tony Danza, shoes wearin' ass

B-b-b-black by popular demand, I expand

My hand to the mic and let my mouth kick the flim flam

I get sex, I get wreck, I puff mad blunts

I get vexed, I break necks, punch out gold fronts, chump, you-

Yo, fuck that, yo, turn this shit off, man (turn that shit off)

Turn that shit down, man

Turn this shit off, G

Boom the new record on, know what I'm sayin'?