Justice System Follow

Pimpin' like a pimp mac daddy in my suit/ Double breasted jacket and my big bag of loot/ But I break out my timbos, Yo! I'm strictly business/ Biccardi & lime time, Fuck the guiness and the moet/ On the set I'ma blow it/ Coming with the Justice, Yo! bust this/ Musical style that makes me better than the rest/ I change up a track to blast a whole in your chest/ Ill rhyme forms cus the ill funk pumps/ Bass thru your speaker so your backseat thumps/ Rompin' over suckers like a new grand cherokee/ Damn right i make it known...know, just let it be.../- Alive, like your heartbeat, Justice throwing joints/ This ones for the sucker, Yo I think I made my point/ Don't point your finger at me, go point it at your producer/ He made your whack tracks so he's the one to suit ya!

YO PUNK IM KNOW TO FLEX THE ILL FUNK X2

Illyodic, justice beat, homicidal at they essence/
so give to that crystals, we rap around amongst the peasants/ Now my crew, jacks rides in parking lots/
Now ????? is in the house so lick a shot/ More funk than Garfunkel, but I'm singing without Simon/ Lost my lucky diamond droppin' jewels in the wine inn??/ From, me like a brick at a pig up in a bumbrush/ And now we're pulling cards over criminal flush/ To the crib we go and max, grab a joint from the P-Funk stacks/ Maybe a disc, that one i gotta wax/ Heads get lost in the clouds/ As the bass beat pumps crazy loud/ I's get dizzy like Dizzie Gillispie/ Who wanna test me? PUNK/ I drop funk like Thelonius Monk/ On piano, hit the skins 'till they sing soprano/ Six kids in camo now the ill funk is the ammo/

YO PUNK IM KNOW TO FLEX THE ILL FUNK X2

It's the mac daddy, fast fold legs bustin tracks/ Check up the equation, as the speakers start to stat/ Bass over trebles makes a level for the rebel/ The ill funk forms from the shit it doesnt sec 'um?/ Like mould on bread, or oil in some water/ You can be my waiter, so you can take my order/ A big dish of bass, slow cooked to perfection/ Jahbaz up on the mic as I make my injection/

Fools wanna question, the session I thinks it's time/ Release the funk sabotage all up in your mind/ Some get lost in the chaos of the scene/ It's a suicide, brap bap bap...suicide...seen/ Roughneck hoods running schemes right above me/ Contacting muthafuckas to get paid something lovely/ From Newark, to Houston or Boston or to Compton/ The ill kids will keep foots stomping... (Stompin'...Stompin'...Stompin')