Get up funky... huh, let me here ya talk, talk about bitch       Me I'm a victim of a young girl's suck    Feeling the emotions through my body ass butt    Everytime I see her in that god damned dress    Fell the stomach, busy stomach, that's what I have to confess       Ah, that's me ya what you see ya    Telling 'bout my stomach and my feels ya    Ah that's me ya, watcha see ya    Telling bout, telling bout me ya       This is a thing that everybody knows about    Every boy and bitch so myself I mustn't worry about    Easy to find, huh, hard to lose    So me myself and I, we got no chance to choose       I can't tell ya what I feel ya    This is a motherfucking problem that I hate ya    I can't tell ya what I feel ya    I hate it but I take it but I try to surpress ya       Chorus:    Fuck, said fuck, fuck, said fuck the facts    Fuck, said fuck, fuck, said fuck the facts       In addition to the point I was talking about    You must remember my name and all my habits and my attitude    So listen to the things that I've got to tell    My name is G on the B.A.S.S. B.G       Hit the bass in the face seven days of the week ya    Hanging 'round my posse that's what everybody needs ya    Me and my band, that's what I stay for - stay for    Me and my band, that's what I pray for - pray for       Music has a use for my personality    Cause if I'd loose it I wouldn't stand it if you know what mean    My heart is hundred percent music that's what I feel ya - feel ya    I feel the drummers kick in my B.O.D.Y. so       I try to combine my fucking emos to the bitch hit    Try to fight it with my music as hatred    I try to combine my fucking emos to the bitch hit    Try to combine it with my music as hatred       Chorus       What about my girl, man?    What about my music, man?    Ina bona lita    I can't stand that shit...