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Artist: Compton's Most Wanted
Album:  Remixes and B-Sides
Song:   Rhymes Too Funky 
Typed by:

* Original Extended Version included two more verses than were in the previous release

[Opening Skit: Dialogue]
Who's playing all that damn loud-ass music out there?
Hear my jam with the funky piano.. ---> Chuck D
Turn that shit down, man
Don't you know I'm trying to get some sleep here?
Hear my jam with the funky piano.. ---> Chuck D
Huh! What you say? I'll go upside your goddamn head, man
If you don't put that goddamn music down, man
Hear my jam with the funky piano.. ---> Chuck D
Woman, call 911 to get these niggaz off this goddamn street 
Hear my jam with the funky piano.. ---> Chuck D
I got to sleep now
Compton is in the house, Yeah! -------> Arabian Prince

[Verse One: MC Eiht]
Yeah, killing off suckers, it's me
You're stupid trying to take me for some punk MC?
I'm here to tax dollars, raps not cheap
Compton's Most Wanted punk, rolling four deep
Gats that I'm packing, sucker better put it back
I'm slapping dumb girls cause my rhymes on hit
Punk on the smooth tip, kicking that butt
Had too much St. Ides, and started throwing it up
Super lyricist, yeah, cold in fact
I'm spraying all you faggot fake MC jacks
Boy, I smack and rack and pack and stack 
To smash all the sucker MC's in a war-like attack
So Chill (What's up?)
Tell these punk fools that they ran out of luck
(Aiyyo Eiht) What's up? (Boy, I think you said enough) 
Chill, I ain't said shit, until I call a punk's bluff
Put you on to punishment, Eiht is like your father
Wanna beg? Sucker, don't bother
Last-place MC's, think you can handle this?
(1-2-3) Sock this fool through the canvas
It's time to start pumping, know what I'm saying?
Yeah, I got the picture, I commence the spraying

[Verse Two: Tha Chill]
Boy, hold up, Tha Chill is on the stage
C.M.W. is like a Hub City army brigade
Give no slack to no black or no punk new jack
Get racked like that because your rhymes are whack
So hit me with your best shot, and boy, you see
How Tha Chill and the Eiht drop punk MC's
But credits never due to you suckers that be faking it
Call it a jack, but yo, I'm just taking it
Your money, your gold, your fortune, and your fame
So hang it up, because you got no game
So just let up, I'm getting fed up
You're talking trash, punk just shut up
Leave it to Tha Chill, yeah, I take care of business
(That's bet, cause Eiht is the witness)
A super hype mellow Compton cold chilling lyricist
Like a scary movie suckers play fearing this
In fact you're a pole caught in thick asphalt
But dis my down posse, yo, I'm dropping the dogs
So just chill as Tha Chill explains
When it comes to getting over, I know all the game
So suckers don't jock me like a backstreet junkie
Cause C.M.W. is cold running it, rhymes too funky

[Skit 2#: The same Dialogue Continued]
C.M.W. is that you, man? (Yeah!)
Keep on playing that shit man, I like that shit, man
Woman, cancel that 911 call they ain't coming anyway, this is Compton
Man, that shit was gonna sound good in my T-Bird, man
Keep on playing man, play louder, Fuck! my neighbors man
I wanna hear some shit man, play it loud, get loud man

[Verse Three: MC Eiht]
Now let me come back my saying, I'ma show them
Fresh funky rhythm, is how my lines flowing
Educated at a high degree, diploma of the streets as a down MC
I get kind of low, wide pressure wises
I start to unload, with all kind of surprises
On them unusual, sort of creative
Punks want beef, it's your automotive
Not responsible punk for what happens to you later
Eiht'll get crazy kill like the terminator
I'm coming to you deadly, not too hyper
Spot you in the crowd, take you out like a sniper
So leave it to Eiht cause it has to be done
Never feel save without my nine eight gun
Not a soldier nor a trooper claiming a name of a jerk
Just a hard Compton lyricist, who putting in work
So all you sucking niggaz, MC punk biters
All you sorry soft jacks, who call yourself riders
Eiht knows the deal, got the scope on your raps
So sucker hang it up because you gots no haps
I stand in one position, my start releasing
Fresh dope rhymes, brothers start pleasing

[Verse Four: Tha Chill]
Hardcore brothers, static not a cutey
Gave you punks a chance (Damn!) you blew it
Rhymes never thought up, cause I got rhythm
Lyrical madness is what I'm here to give them
The nine that I pack got it especial for me 
Protecting out jacks, that runs the lip 
Yours is only money, dope rhymes hitting
Eiht starts to tagging, and pumping no kidding
His posse is in effect, suckers here to trouble you
Eiht, Chill, Cool DJ Ant, C.M.W
Wiping out rookies, pardon new booties
Stop hyping for the record boy, don't be choosey
Wipe you in a second, is how Tha Chill's living
I get more skees cause girls keep giving
Gossip on the ropes, start to one, two-ing
Try to claim champ, but cards start drew in
It's pretty obvious, Tha Chill got the mack
To grab you in my ??, start them vicious attack
Suckers get hype, but Chill stays cooler
I've seen better rhymes written by Preschooler
I'm a teacher; schooling all punks that's stepping
At the student; you suppose to listen to the lesson
While I'm bumping

[Tha Chill] 
Yeah, I would like to say what's up to my homie MC Ren out there
And DJ Slip up there, you know what I mean?

[MC Eiht]
Yeah, this is the down MC Eiht
I would like to say what's up to all homeboys from Compton that kicking it
Compton is in the house -------> Arabian Prince
You know what I'm saying?
Oh! gyeah

[Tha Chill] What's happening man

[MC Eiht] Let's tap out of here

Compton is in the house -------> Arabian Prince