Lyrics Rated 'r' Redman

Rated 'r'

Nah nah nah, fuck that!
Don't hold me back, the Funkadelic Devil just snapped

With a rap, that's shittin on the story of Jack Sprat
So put your money where your mouth is, watch Redman house shit

And if it's beef I'll punch you in your mouth kid ('Damn!')
I got a heart but my heart is made out of nails

Word to ?Jamel?, my heart pumps nails in my blood rails
I'm not a warrior or Bavarian type of nigga
I'm just quick to smoke your family then fuck your sister
That's what type of shit I'm on, word is bond

Been thinkin about playin that nice guy role ?
Cause every since I was an infrant I was different

Paid no attention to my moms when she ripped it

I was a hardheaded mother-eff, but had to step

Cause she hit me with a left, then another left
That's why my brain is out of order

Because it just a quarter to manslaughter your little daughter

And do a driveby, fuck that, I walk by and I spray shit

Then carve my name in your pavement

I was Rated 'X' but I flexed

I beat up the devil with a shovel so he dropped me a level
Ain't that ill? That I could just stand and watch a bloodspill

From a known rapper, but now the rapper's no frill

Just because I made a record I'm a star, that's bullshit
What's the flavor 'Tim? (Fuck what you heard, this rated R)

Chorus: repeat 4X

Rakim
Ice Cube

Back to part two of the segment, the Red bend

Mics of all types, pour beer out for my dead friends

And if I didn't know ya, to hell witcha punk

And tell the devil I'll be in town for lunch (heh heh heh heh)

Got Naughty in my Nature plus I'm down with O.P.P.
The best part about it, I got AIDS, bitch!

Psych, I'm only kiddin, only do it to ugly women

Cause the pretty one's puss smell like they went fishin

I grab my dick with a tight grip, cause I might flip
(
Yo Red, kick that hype shit on who you had a fight with!)

I had a fight with Chuck, the punk motherfuck

Tried to stab me in the gut, so I dazed him with a uppercut (BING!)
Snapped the neck on Michael Myers then I freaked it; cause it was August
And he was talkin this trick or treat shit (Trick or treat!)

Jason my man slangs rocks like up the block
143rd and Amsterdam by the smoke shop

Norman Bates work the night shift late

Since he dresses like his momma, I pimp him and his hoecake

Bust a maneuver Freddy Kruger, dreamed about

Me havin him scooped, he woke up with his zooks up

That caused me to cut the hands off the man with the chainsaw

Plus I got his brain pickled in a jar

So let's get down with the funk break, cause they tailgate

My rap style, so to cut em off I truncate

And rough em up, tough em up, like bust em up

With the one-two punch, like servin a customer

And if you hear a man that sounds like me smack him

Then ask him where the fuck did he get his damn raps from

I know, from me, THE original P-Funk
See ya next LP chump!

Chorus