Me, Plug Three, the one they call Baby Huey The one that gets all the money All the money Maybe that's right A fat funky fruit with a whole lot of tang A little something called, doing our own thang Breaking the beat others wished they broke Baseline so dope that you just might choke Don't bite off something that you can't chew And don't trail behind when I'm coming through Fronting the feel that you really can't feel 'Cause you're trying to feel what's on my reel to reel A tree is growing, can't you see what I see? A white blue fruit to boot We count to ten before we pass the crews Now that's family equipped with the brothers and the sisters And the sisters and the brothers, and all the others With the funky flairs, the bugged-out hairs It's the life of Riley, I'm really ready, gazing at the dollar fill of rap The cool June bugs, the wicks, the wacks Praise the rhythms for what it being, and praise the Lord for the JB's We're doing our own thang We're doing our own thang We're doing our own thang We're doing our own thang Isn't it cool when you cut your hair And the blood is red instead of sellout green This is not the music for an R n' B mind This is flower intertwined with a vine In other words this is rose You see what I mean? Or see what Grandpa Bam saw The funk we transmit is unstable One condition if I am able to say Yes you may, well hey, let's get on with it Vocal confetti is thrown, sometimes spitted Out the vents of hecklers and fans Either which way they all hop on the van The band, the band, here comes the band The tribe of fingers all on one hand Me, myself, and I is dark Monie Love the mouthpiece, it's now yours to spark Sister Monie, the only one here who missed a plane back to London Residing with my brothers and I learned a lot from them About the group, how to be smooth and play funky And sometimes rated it's kind of funky, but it's cool For we are beyond the stereotypes Co-ordination crazy, but still it sounds hype Rocking off and on beat, and I do believe I'm right, you're right Am I wrong? Yes, son Don't be mad, be glad I missed the plane, I'm staying With my Brothers Jungle, Soul, and the Tribe I'm saying Funky, funky rhymes that always stay in swing I believe we doing our own thing We're doing our own thang We're doing our own thang We're doing our own thang We're doing our own thang Well my family sets all the trends From soul to soul, large to lose ends And I all my groups like kill? 'Cause that's where the money's at honey Yeah, the industry's filled with copycats R n' B mixed with sloppy raps Tribes like us always open doors But what for, so you can get yours? You ain't in to it, all you want is profit So I ask you please to stop it Leave me alone, get off my bone 'Cause I'm doing my own A new seed, a new breed A new man you to feed the greed A new pair of boots for a new piece of butt Sweet daddy are you there? Sammy B is on the cut Spinning back for a rap that's laid back Ready to kick back, those get no slack I may rock a rhyme or I may start to sing But still, I'm doing my own thang In comes the mood of Jungle and Daisies Play the same and let the vibes grace me All hold hands and let's walk about And form a circle and talk about Don't follow the path that we're stepping Truth to the soul is what I'm cramming Reasons for this is the family's strong And like Bob Marley said, "We're jammin'" Seeing is believing, so see and believe And let the groove of the new proceed A whole bunch of love, peace signs, and fun So let's do what's got to be done, you know? © JOBETE MUSIC CO INC; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com