Time 4 Sum Aksion

Album: Whut? Thee Album (1993)
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  • Ninety-ninety-motherfuckin'-two
    Straight from Jersey, the Philly blunt lives on
    Yo, B, tell 'em how this shit goin' down

    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action (come on)
    Time, time for some, time for some action (yeah)
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action (lights, camera, action)
    Time, time for some, time for some action (let's get ready to rumble)

    In this corner, we have the funk bodysnatcher
    P-Funkadelic and I gat ya (uh-huh)
    Hard enough that I can chew a whole bag of rocks
    Chew an avenue, chew an off street and off block
    Then turn around and do the same damn thing to a soloist
    'Cause Reggie Noble's pissed
    I crush the whole brain frame
    'Cause you couldn't maintain the funk
    That have your rap style for lunch, chump (uh-huh)
    'Cause '92, I take a whole crew
    Give 'em a punch of the funk, knock all of their gold tooth loose (wow)
    To show you what type of stuff I'm on
    You can't puff or sniff it because I was born with it
    The Funkadelic devil, hit you with the rap level of ten
    Then one, two, three, you're pinned
    I get action, so everybody jump wit your rump
    If you like the way the sound bump, pump it in your back trunk
    And let loose with the juice when I do rock
    I'm too hot, some say I got more juice than 2pac
    (Straight outta Jersey) You heard me, my brother
    I'm laughin', time for some action

    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action (yeah)
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action (uh-huh)
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action (yeah)
    Time, time for some, time for some action

    Lights, camera, cock back the hammer
    Straight from the land of the lost
    I'ma hit you with the funk force
    That makes you run your rap style back to the crack vile
    Brotha, then strike a pose like Madonna
    My mom's kicked me out because I did what I want to
    The original P-Funk, chump, dump a trunk of funk
    In your skull caps, 'cause my jaw snaps with the raw rap
    So color me bad, plus color me black
    For the funk that I pack, Red, freak it to the funk track
    (The funky fly stuff)
    Come on and let me kick
    (The funky fly stuff)
    Just to show you where the hell I come from
    I get dumb with the 1, 1-2
    Check my rep, I'm a hit when I have sex (like this)
    Make you twist to the mist
    Of a funky brain cell when it's puffed on a spliff
    And all that, the hi hat, go buy that
    Listen, look, oops, brother, where your eyes at?
    They on the floor, pick 'em up
    While I pour a lil funk down your brain, punk
    Listen to my name, chump (Redman ready to rock)
    I got a Glock
    Then, pow, your body is all over the block
    Tryin' to step to the, the exorcist, kick it
    I get mad wicked when Twin cocks the biscuit
    And blow your head off, just for askin'
    "Who's the one rappin?" (Poo-pow)
    Time for some action

    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action (uh)
    Time, time for some, time for some action (yeah)
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action
    Time, time for some, time for some action

    Yo, 1992, Redman gets paid (yeah)
    Yeah, know what I'm sayin'?
    We not goin' for the okey-doke, believe that
    Hit Squad is definitely in the house (in the house)
    For the brothers that don't be knowin', what's up?
    Word is bond, I gotta show them the flava

    Back to the funk track like Black Sheep
    My man jump say, uh
    "Who's the Redman? Where's the Redman?"
    I kill, I smother, I get down with the (yo, yo, yo, chill)
    Yo, yo, Red, yo, chill, G
    Chill, akh
    It's over, man
    Yo, you don't gotta say no more, it's over Writer/s: George Clinton, Gregory E. Jacobs, Jimmy Mc Cracklin, Larry E. Muggerud, Larry Troutman, Louis M. Freeze, Lowell Fulson, Reggie Noble, Roger Troutman, Senen Reyes, Walter Morrison, William Earl Collins
    Publisher: A SIDE MUSIC LLC D/B/A MODERN WORKS MUSIC PUBLISHING, BMG Rights Management, DELLA MUSIC PUBLISHING, LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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