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lucien «papalu» m'baidem - funky piano / from a town call paris / donkeys lyrics

funky piano

[intro]
huh
huh, check this out, for ninety-three
check it, check it out, here we, here we go, yo
yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo

[couplet]
huh
here comes the man with the swing (with the swing)
p-ss me a forty and i’m singing with my beatnuts
i’m curious, time to get serious
when i see a punk faking the funk, i get furious
the wicked, the wicked psycho-
les got my back juju the ooze
that’s for those who refuse, my music is of the people
made by the people, for the people
hey yo, f-ck it we’re all equal
don’t play me no colour, and just call me brother
but if you mess around, you’ll get smoked, motherf-cker
uh! the way that i rock the microphone, check it, one-two
let me kick this sh-t black, won’t go back to france before my pocket’s are real fat
like my beats and the flavor that i’m kicking
one up out of the woods, better keep working
coming from another land to rock the funky apple
they used to call me revolucien, now here’s the rebel
the french new yorker, papalu, the swinger
the french n-gg- who goes click, like a trigger, then bang!
talking about the funky style i’m throwing
like chuck berry, i keep rocking and rolling a blunt
to get me hyper, i’m born in september
smoke 6 n-gg-s with a bullet in my chamber
sh–t! excuse my french, but i’m in effect
no time for hickies, i’ll leave you with a broken neck
so stop hookin and shaking when i’m speaking
’cause when i get the mic oh snap i get wicked
i’m indestructible, young black intellectual
some say are criminal (what ? it’s unbelievable)

[pont]
we interrupt our programming to bring you the following special report

from a town call paris

[couplet 1: lucien]
the one they called lucien is rippin’ sh-t
for ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-ninety-more
welcome to the neighborhood they call the woods (the woods!)
we be robbin’ all goods, and be robbin’ all hoodlums
put down the mics and the guns
i’m on my way to habben, stickin’ up nuns
the pope gets mugged in my neighborhood
he gets robbed all his gold, ’cause the times get cold
the pigs likes to do ya, just like the donkeys
snap d-mn i hate to be search like a junky
but that’s how the suburbs and paris goes
and if you don’t believe me, ask bo, he knows
my man got shot by a chump for nothing
looking for the chump while i hear the cops laughin’
but hey yo, yo, look at my finger
it’s right on the trigger, to buck a punk, n-gg-
’cause i ain’t goin’ out like a duck
so walk like a duck, ’cause yo ! you outta luck, word up
i get tired of the bullsh-t
i take a wh-r-, take her home, take a nap and that’s it now
i relax max, i’m ripping up fun tracks
the new jacks who use the mic like tampax, get smacked (wacha!)
just like on tv, they make paris looks like everything is rosy
(it is not?)
no, no, no, so i keep laughin’
a tourist talkin’ sh-t on my block yo i snuff him
that’s how it is when you f-ck around money
and that’s how it used to be when i was coolin’ in paris

from the zulu nation, from a town called paris
from the zulu nation, from a town called paris
from a town called paris

[couplet 2: lucien]
je continue, je flow pour nineteen-ninety-three
pour la vieille école, les anciens, et tous ceux qui sont partis
(bang ! bang! bang !)
goes my nine, if you play me too close
you get blown up like a mine
i start to flip, rip, dip
hip, never trip and cold bust your lip
(extra ! extra !) oh yes, i come bigger
i drop sh-t, you say: “snap! that’s a french n-gg-?!”
wake up and smell the blunt i keep flippin’
i got my shank, my tooli, i’m trippin’
uh! n-gg-s from the woods, keeps swingin’
people keeps looking, wondering what we smoking
who gives a d-mn what they thinkin’ about
smoke a blunt, then a punk get a ho, then we out
that’s how we livin’, illin’, plus i got a job
punk motherf-cker mess around and get stabbed
so, hey, catch the blues, yo, ’cause i can’t loose
i paid my dues, so, yo, check out the news
ninety-three, we bring the hardcore jazz
jealous of the woods ’cause of what we have
but that’s alright, ’cause chumps n-gg-s, they get toast
and they french-kiss my black -ss, yup! cause i’m ghost

[outro]
from the zulu nation, from a town called paris
from the zulu nation, from a town called paris
from the zulu nation, from a town called paris
from the zulu nation, from a town called paris
from the zulu nation
from the zulu nation, from a town called paris, paris

donkeys

[intro: ]
hey, yo, listen, i don’t like you for your money
i want you to understand this…

[couplet: lucien]
you don’t like for my money
but you like me when i’m rich
so let’s go h-, (i’m not a h-) alright b-tch
move to the side let me take a look, a good—
look at your friends, you know lucien
when it comes to money, honeys act funny
i kick them in the mouth ’cause i like karate
high-kick, low kick, check my funky technic
hang around the woods and i’ll stick up your picnics
uh, bad motherf-ckin’ lu
i got rid of your crew, now i’m chocking you
yup, yup, that’s how the woods goes, napsac full of h-es
eatin’ up sweeties from heads to toes
hey, yo, i got flavor that make you pull out your wallets
never hang with a b-tch who’s got cactus in her pocket
pockets fat, oh, yes, that’s how i like it
i knock the boots, get the loot, then jet like a rocket
i’m coolin’, chillin, now honey is sleeppin’
she told me when i do the boogaloo i be rippin sh-t (hi-han)
that’s how it goes when i be chillin’ with the hoes

- lucien papalu mbaidem lyrics

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