Check It

Lyrics for Check It

Check it, check it, microphone check it The crowd went wild when the Lords came to wreck it Ayo, check it, check it, check it, check it, microphone check it Here it is, Mr. Funke, grand microphone wrecker God's gift to hip-hoppers, the Lord Chief Rocker Number one, here I come, here I come, better run You know it's time to get down when the Lords come to town Do the Brown, jump up and down The Lords wear the crown because I flip styles to rip styles (But can you make it funky, child?) Sweat for the rocks and stuff that I have to oil on my nuts I'm like knock knock (Who is it?) My damn (My damn who?) My damn foot's stuck in the door, so Won't you please come open it up, dude Invest in fresh funky so I can make it funky (Make it funky? Yo, who's funky? Are you funky?) Yes, I'm funky A lot of brothers think they're Mr. Funky, but they're dead wrong They're just a bunch of clones who might go need to go home And please just take what you please, memories can be your nightmare After the pain is here so easy to say goodbye and go both way Check it, check it, microphone check it The crowd went wild when the Lords came to wreck it Now, microphones get checked on the one and two tip And now I'm glad it's night so I can sing like a pip I need a stadium (Why?) I'm overflowin' my cranium I know my songs are diesel cause I hear the people sayin' 'em Screamin', doin' all that game, what's the meanin'? (I get her, I gun her, she got done by the dunny) But never mind my attitude, I'm here to give off shoots Of gifts from the lips, flow, flow like the good ship The good ship? What's the good ship? The lolly pop The Lords, the Lords, ooh, they drive a hip-hop And don't misjudge your step, cause I get iced like an alpha And let my naps and jump as if my name was Alfalfa Collect my dough in stacks, so yes, I am a stacker And if this was football, I'd be a Green Packer So, yo, bust a chance to get wrecked with the mic check Without a one-two and I still flip the script Check it, check it, microphone check it The crowd went wild when the Lords came to wreck it Of course it's the Lords that'll keep your fingers poppin' There's a lot of girls on my noggin jockin' when I'm knockin' A lot of brothers simply just don't know where I come from Call yourself steppin' to the Lords, that's just so dumb How you gonna step to the Lords when you know you'll just get broken? You gotta be jokin' I think you're tryin' to be like Poochie cause you're really broken out With no clout, tryin' to take me out, what you talkin' 'bout? You might say, damn, Mr. Funke's raw, what you expect, huh? I don't play, I'm puttin' rappers away like I'm a collector I slide on your pride, cross all over your self-esteem And dance all over your confidence and stomp all on your dreams And this is just a warning from the Tug, don't mess around, G Or you'll be level with Elvis or level with Liberace And if anybody ask me, I'll admit that I hit him I did him, took his rhymes, papers, and wiped my butt with 'em Check it, check it, microphone check it The crowd went wild when the Lords came to wreck it Well, on inch rolls to stage shows, here's the brown bro Equipped with shades so I can play the low pro Foul, not up in that buckwild As I tug my nuts and all my grillers know smile I give a check for respect and let my lips sink shut Is this what you want? Well, this is what you get So, yo, pass the chisel, the bang-bang, the wang-wang The suckers who play-play with doo-ray I need a puff check, a weed check without the milk mic check Just so I can see who will rip it up next (I'm Mr. Funke) No, Funke, slow down, baby I need another second, I forgot to add the gravy Mmm, it's tasty, oh so delicious Got an underground dinner and it's packed with nutrition So, yo, watch the stage as I jet from sweat I bet you never heard a brother end with a mic check Check it, check it, microphone check it The crowd went wild when the Lords came to wreck it No Tugs, we out