Funk U Up

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

(Get down)

(Wessyde)

[ VERSE 1: Havikk the Rhime Son ]

I'm posted up in a Cutlass, hoo-bangin in a bucket

Hennessy got a nigga mind shifted, so fuck it

Told you muthafuckas we was back droppin amity

Riders on deck, Chuck T's my calamity

Servin any niggas tryin to dip on them whips

100 spokes gold thangs so I bangs with the clip

Out of the cut like a ( ? ) I slides like a Klingon

( ? ) hit the switch and leave that ass froze like freon

It's them mad-ass Cartel gangsters

Throwin bolos so fuck what Bo knows cause I'ma bank ya

Put your ass on some crutches

Stackin ends like the Dutches

Counterreact for the attack like Marcus Allen rushes

It's that Westside rider Rhime Son, like that

In a 'burban still swervin sippin on a cognac

With my tag team, Prode'je, nigga, you couldn't fuck with the realest

We get in that ass like Bruce Willis

Bitch

(Funk you right on up

we gonna funk you right on up)

Westside

(Funk you right on up

we gonna funk you right on up)

Eastside rider

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

Yeah

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

Nigga

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

Peep game

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

Well, sit your punk-ass down

(..down)

Eastside rider

[ VERSE 2: Prode'je ]

Predatory like the Terminator, mo' game than Sega

How many muthafuckas wanna step to this omega

Supreme, the .44 cocked for the cream

I fiend for the green so the gee's on the scene

My diamond's in the back but your diamond's in my pocket

I knock your jaws loose flyin things like a rocket

You couldn't stop it cause 6-4's, yeah, we drops it

Comin for your ( ? ) slingin muthafuckin toxic

Niggas never loc unless you worry S.C.

Cause many muthafuckas I can bury O.G.

But when you close your eyes it's the gees comin atcha

Khakis, Chuck T's, Beefy-Tee's, I'ma gatcha

Steady dippin, things whippin, am I crippin

Niggas hate a player so the playa-hatas trippin

When the Rhime Son ridin shotgun niggas see the blues

And we don't give a fuck about yo crews

(Funk you right on up

we gonna funk you right on up)

Eastside rider

(Funk you right on up

we gonna funk you right on up)

Wessyde

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

Haha

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

Geah

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

1996

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

Sit yo ass down

(...down)

Cartel riders

[ VERSE 3: Rhime Son ]

I'm dippin back to the hood ragged up too deep

Extended clips, hollow tips, Murder Squad don't sleep

I'm terrorizin a terroist, fuck Hussein and his posse

Expanded flows, hot .44's, khaki saggin, fuck a Nazi

I'm mobbin block to block, chronic got a nigga on twist

I gets deeper than the death, so muthafuck the _Abyss_

It's the S.C. O.G. (Who I be?) H-a-v

96 in your shit, Rhime Son and Prode'je

[ Prode'je ]

Cause we be swingin 17, makin muthafuckas over

Comin through your hoods like a muthafuckin soldier

Gangsta rap is over, muthafuckas, how you figure?

Cause bein anti-gee is like bein anti-nigga

They try to put to bed but the gee is never sleepin

I'm down with TLC cause the nigga sho' creepin

The chronic flows, as it grows you'se a witness

So sit the fuck down and let the gees handle business

(Funk you right on up

we gonna funk you right on up)

Westside

(Funk you right on up

we gonna funk you right on up)

Eastside rider

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

Yeah

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

Nigga

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

Busters

(Get up, get up, get up, get up, get up)

Sit your punk-ass down

(..down)

Nigga right

Westside and Eastside on a mission, nigga

199-c-c, muthafuckas

South Central Cartel beatin yo ass since '91

And it don't stop

Never that, never that, nigga

199... to infinity

Prode'je and Rhime Son, fool