Common:  What, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo  Yo, yo yo yo, yo, yo, yo, yo  Check it, yo  You say a one for the trouble, two for the time  Come on y'all, let's rock that, uh  (I can feel the funk)(x4)  Check it  I come to grips with mics  I come to grips that a lot of mic users is dikes  I come to grips with the likes of Fred Hampton  Cold, so I'm lampin, with no need for spotlight  When I got light like an intersection, you talk  But you came to my town with protection  Election year, had the block hot  I scream "fuck the world" for having a baby girl sorta cock block  I write rhymes like I come from the windy city  With my crew, I click like simply, stand midi with reality  Casually, I walk through these war games  Some claim say but then they take on whore names  If that's the way your sex drives, stay in your lane  If you're a man, I can't tell like if the door rang now  Chorus:  Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place  It ain't a bunch of niggaz all up in your face  The music is thumpin and you're feelin the bass  What you wanna do girl(wanna shout)  To the brothas when you come in a jam, it ain't a bunch of niggaz  It ain't high tech and ain't got free liquor  You jackin his name and stick to make you jones get thicker  What you wanna do man?(let go)  Yo, check it  Some niggaz be on the mic, sounding like dikes  Allow me to get on and bust like Spike(uh)  Lee, I'm in the majors with no rotation  Through stations of bullshit, I see through like a pager  In the age of Aquarius, various things  Is gonna carry us in intellect and what have you  Street astrologists interpret point stars and half moons  Then end up on garages or walls in bathrooms  Every black moon, a rap tune move me  The rap sun, I rain more than Rudy, that unruly shit is played  It don't stop  It's time to get it, get it made  I got my mind made up like Foxy Brown's face  I know how the underground tastes  I want a crib from the ground up, rooms spin at a round pace  Get down based on true story, through Corey, came close to the  teachers  Colder as the Iceman, posted before it start wrinklin  Linkin with cats, who don't react to change in the years  Fulfill prophesies in rooms full of emptiness, now  Chorus:  I can feel the funk(x8)  Yo, check it, check it  I came through the corridor, with the aura  Raw Chicago mora, scope the horror  Read between the lines and know the border  Some pop wines for juice, I wait in the water  Waitin for you Big Willie niggaz to have a show at The Crib  We gon get with your glamour, long as we know where it is  Tell you ain't a player by your sweater doused with wack feather  The Crib got the gangsta playa shit patent like black leather  I rap better than you, you, or maybe him  But I am like a tree and every lyric is a timb  Spilled brews and greasy foods got my car smelly  Some be so high, they believe they fly like R. Kelly  But then they fall off, dusted niggaz is gettin sawed off  They fall soft, my mental lift is for me to haul off  I kick ass  Chorus:  (scratching)  I can feel the funk(x16)(makes me wanna shout, wanna shout)(x4)  (scratching)Wanna shout