Verse One: 

So you wanna be hardcore 
With your hat to the back, talkin bout the gats in your raps 
But I can't feel that hardcore appeal 
that you're screamin, baby I'm dreamin 
This ain't Christopher Williams, still some
MC's got to feel one, caps I got to peel some 
To let niggaz know... that if you fuck with Big-and-Heavy 
I get up in that ass like a wedgie
Says who? Says me, the lyrical 
Niggaz sayin, "Biggie off the street, it's a miracle" 
Left the drugs alone, took the thugs along with me 
Just for niggaz actin shifty 
Sticks and stones break bones, but the gat'll kill you quicker 
Especially when I'm drunk off the liquor 
Smokin funk by the boxes, packin glocks is 
natural to eat you niggaz like chocolates 
The funk baby 

Chorus (repeats 8X)

"I live for the funk, I'll die for the funk" (LOTUG, Chief Rocka) 

Verse Two: 

All I want is bitches, big booty bitches 
Used to sell crack, so I could stack my riches 
Now I pack gats, to stop all the snitches 
from stayin in my business, what is this?  Relentless 
approach, to know if I'm broke or not 
Just cause I joke and smoke a lot 
Don't mean I don't tote the glock 
Sixteen shots for my niggaz in the pen 
Until we motherfuckin meet again 
Huh, I'm doin rhymes now, fuck the crimes now 
Come on the ave, I'm real hard to find now 
Cause I'm knee deep in the beats 
In the Land Cruiser Jeep with the Mac-10 by the seats 
For the jackers, the jealous ass crackers in the (car sirens) 
I'll make you prove that it's bulletproof 
Hold ya head, cause when you hit the bricks 
I got gin, mad blunts, and bitches suckin dick 
The funk baby 

Repeat chorus

Verse Three: 

So I guess you know the story, the rap-side, crack-side 
How I smoked funk, smacked bitches on the backside 
Bed-Stuy, the place where my head rests 
Fifty shot clip if a nigga wan' test 
The rocket launcher, Biggie stomped ya 
High as a motherfuckin helicopter 
That's why I pack a nina, fuck a misdeameanor 
Beatin motherfuckers like Ike beat Tina 
[What's Love, Got to Do] 
when I'm rippin all through your whole crew 
Strapped like bamboo, but I don't sling guns 
I got bags of funk, and it's sellin by the tons 
Niggaz wanna know, how I live the mack life 
Making money smoking mics like crack pipes
It's type simple and plain to maintain 
I add a little funk to the brain 
The funk baby 

Repeat chorus