Get up funky... huh, let me here ya talk, talk about bitch Me I'm a victim of a young girl's suck Feeling the emotions through my body ass butt Everytime I see her in that god damned dress Fell the stomach, busy stomach, that's what I have to confess Ah, that's me ya what you see ya Telling 'bout my stomach and my feels ya Ah that's me ya, watcha see ya Telling bout, telling bout me ya This is a thing that everybody knows about Every boy and bitch so myself I mustn't worry about Easy to find, huh, hard to lose So me myself and I, we got no chance to choose I can't tell ya what I feel ya This is a motherfucking problem that I hate ya I can't tell ya what I feel ya I hate it but I take it but I try to surpress ya Chorus: Fuck, said fuck, fuck, said fuck the facts Fuck, said fuck, fuck, said fuck the facts In addition to the point I was talking about You must remember my name and all my habits and my attitude So listen to the things that I've got to tell My name is G on the B.A.S.S. B.G Hit the bass in the face seven days of the week ya Hanging 'round my posse that's what everybody needs ya Me and my band, that's what I stay for - stay for Me and my band, that's what I pray for - pray for Music has a use for my personality Cause if I'd loose it I wouldn't stand it if you know what mean My heart is hundred percent music that's what I feel ya - feel ya I feel the drummers kick in my B.O.D.Y. so I try to combine my fucking emos to the bitch hit Try to fight it with my music as hatred I try to combine my fucking emos to the bitch hit Try to combine it with my music as hatred Chorus What about my girl, man? What about my music, man? Ina bona lita I can't stand that shit...
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