The Fun Lovin’ Criminal
One, two, three and I come with the redneck style
‘Cos you know I’m gettin’ paid by the mile, like Avis
I pave this, Fast save this, everybody smile
And act gracious
See I rob banks, I pull pranks
Sometimes I eat franks and knishes, best wishes
I’m vicious
But here I am again like CNN
Delivery my friend
Stick ‘em up punk
It’s the Fun Lovin’ Criminal
Stick ‘em up punk
It’s the Fun Lovin’ Criminal
Yes we bug a lot and my friends is loud and
I’m more freaky than Disco 2000
I scream, I yell, I bark, I bite
I’ll hit you with an egg on a hot summer night
I never let the cops get wind of me
And I never, ever, ever say die (say die!)
I never take myself too seriously
‘Cos everybody know fat birds don’t fly
Stick ‘em up punk
It’s the Fun Lovin’ Criminal
Stick ‘em up punk
It’s the Fun Lovin’ Criminal
Stick ‘em up punk
It’s the Fun Lovin’ Criminal
Stick ‘em up punk
It’s the Fun Lovin’ Criminal
The Fun Lovin’ Criminal
The Fun Lovin’ Criminal
The Fun Lovin’ Criminal
Means with the greens, murder on your spleen
Living in a dream do you know what I mean?
Goateed indeed, smart like John Steed
I’ll steal your girlie and I’ll steal your weed
I got so much flavour that I always leave you chewin’
And I got so many styles you be thinking I’m from the U.N.
Broke into the White House and never got caught
And I’d be Neil Armstrong if I was an astronaut
I’m always optimistic about human relations
I got more friends than my man Peter Gatien
We always fun lovin’, so don’t start buggin’
If your girlie comes up and starts kiss, kiss, kissin’ and huggin’
Stick ‘em up punk
It’s the Fun Lovin’ Criminal
Stick ‘em up punk
It’s the Fun Lovin’ Criminal
Stick ‘em up punk
It’s the Fun Lovin’ Criminal
Stick ‘em up punk
It’s the Fun Lovin’ Criminal
Passive/Aggressive
Fisty! Fisty, yeah, yeah…
Alright…giddy up, giddy up, giddy up…alright
Yeah, I’m a nicely zooted new car owner
And I’m somewhat convoluted
‘Cos I’m living in a coma
I render those useless who pinch off my trim
Your lights they are on, but your lights they are dim
Yeah I got the Bushmills shots, some cops that give me props
I got the Motts, Spike, I got the Motts
Having fun with my gun, son, you know it’s loaded
And the FLC is raw y’all not candy coated
Cooling on the block
With a case of Rolling Rock
Thinking up the schemes to get my boys a knock
And you know we loves to get down and party with the big boys
They asked me to be mayor, as if I had a choice
‘Cos I loves you people and my boys love you too
So fuck the king of beer, see this ones for you.
If grunts from stunts is what you want say, “Aaah”
The FLC with the mucho grande style
You know you can’t boom with a bullshit system
And you can’t fix a man when he’s broke
You know you can’t max if you don’t pay the tax
And you can’t wax the man if you choke (x2)
You know the funk I drop is wild just like Aretha beltin’
And my shit is going fast, so get your second helping
And my brain cells are dying, the old womens is crying
But I keep on trying, like my man Jack Ryan
You see my man is in my face as if he has been drinking
And they say that he needs space but I know what he’s thinking
We have a common bond the fact we all get lifted
And the rocks that hit our head have left us somewhat gifted
It’s the Fun Lovin’ Criminals out to represent
I know it’s tough being hard and politically correct
If grunts from stunts is what you want say, “Aaah”
The FLC with the mucho grande style
You know you can’t boom with a bullshit system
And you can’t fix a man when he’s broke
You know you can’t max if you don’t pay the tax
And you can’t wax the man if you choke
The Grave and the Constant
I used to wear dress blues, I used to get my cues
From the dudes in D.C. with the wing tip shoes
My boss said it was Parris or Prison
And the judge said: “son, you better make a decision”
I chose the former ‘cos I heard it was warmer
April in Parris, hell south of the border
They put me together, tougher than leather
And set me on your ass ‘cos they didn’t know better
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on, Uh!
Now I hold the fort left, right and centre
The number running hard-ass punk, flygirl bender
Now check the photo finish I’m in this to satisfy parole
Not posing, not playing a role
See I got more goombahs than Bobby De Niro
And if I was you I’d act like Nixon and Spiro
So drink your rock and smoke your pot and chill where it’s shady
I got more endurance than ‘In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida’ baby
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
I’m up to no good, with no place to go but down
I’m up to no good, with no place to go but down
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
We up to no good, with no place to go but down
We up to no good, with no place to go but down
We up to no good, with no place to go but down
We up to no good, with no place to go but down
We up to no good, with no place to go but down
We up to no good, with no place to go but down
Scooby Snacks
“Everybody be cool, this is a robbery!”
“Any of you fucking pricks move, and I’ll execute every motherfucking last one of you!”
Me and Fast got the gats, we out to rob a bank
We got Steve outside carrying a full pack
And everything is cool and everything is smooth
(Hey that’s smooth!)
I walk up to the teller, I give her the letter
She gives me the loot with puckered up lips
And a wink that I found cute, and I said,
”Baby, baby, baby,
Is there some Kharmic-Chi love thing happening here baby or what?”
By that time Fast tapped me with the 9
He said it’s time to blow, ya know
So out the door we go back to the ride
With Steve inside and alive and off we drive
See I hurt my lower lumbar, you know we never get far
Riding around in a stolen police car
So we dropped it off and piled in the Caddy
Steve was driving ‘cos I had to talk to my man about something
“Look, I don’t know anything about any fucking set-up,
You can torture me all you want”
“Torture you, that’s good, that’s a good idea, I like that one”
Running around robbing banks
All whacked off on Scooby Snacks (x2)
Now I don’t give a fuck about the hell’s gate
Ain’t punkin’ the crowd man I’m still standing up straight
So, we pull these jobs make a little money
No one gets hurt if they don’t act funny
On the way to the yacht, we almost got caught
Fast shooting mailboxes, knowing where the cops is
Yeah, they at the Dunkin Donuts, adjacent from the phone box
Whose mailbox Fast had just exploded
They gave chase, but my man Steve’s an ace
And we lost those brothers with haste
We cast it off and along we went
Off Bermuda to an island resort we rented
“Sonny, I need you cool, are you cool?”
“I am cool”
Running around robbing banks
All whacked off on Scooby Snacks
Smoke ‘Em
Smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If ya ain’t got ‘em then ya hit rock bottom
Smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If ya ain’t got ‘em then ya hit rock bottom
Smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If ya ain’t got ‘em then ya hit rock bottom
Smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If you ain’t got ‘em then ya hit rock bottom
Hey muneka, I think I wanna take ya
Back to the lab, with my gift of gab
And yo a little dab’ll do ya, maybe even school ya
I’ll rush the end zone like my man Don Shula
You my four leaf clover even bending over
I love you like rover; you my little lawnmower
But, lower, lower, see I’m the seed sower
Yo the funky weed grower, and the mad rap thrower
See, I’m a man’s man, now do you understand?
What I’m giving ain’t cocked in the palm of my hand
So take a nasty plunge, plaid not grunge
And I know it’s really hard when you love someone
You always stood by me like Spanky did Stymie
Iif anybody messes yo I’ll bust ‘em in the eye
And check that ass like Phil Esposito
The guido, U.P.S. next day back to Toledo
Smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If ya ain’t got ‘em then ya hit rock bottom
Smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If ya ain’t got ‘em then ya hit rock bottom
Smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If ya ain’t got ‘em then ya hit rock bottom
Smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If you ain’t got ‘em, well, well
I say, me and my Les Paul is out droppin’ science
Pocket full of blunts and a full carry license
Never walking streets, lookin’ past my shoulder
Acting kinda bolder since my dog got older
I walked the walk and aced the test
And when I put the pressure on all your tendencies manifest
Half spick, peckerwood talkin’ to the dead
I’ll break into your house and I’ll smell your bed
Smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If ya ain’t got ‘em then ya hit rock bottom
Smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If ya ain’t got ‘em then ya hit rock bottom
Smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If ya ain’t got ‘em then ya hit rock bottom
Smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em
If you ain’t got ‘em then ya hit rock bottom
Bombin’ The L
Bombin’ the L, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bomb, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bombin’ the L
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
I used to move more ya-yo than Phizer Pharmaceuticals
Paid my way through college, and still had residuals
Moved more weight than Arnold on steroids
I shot more punks than rocks in asteroids
Caught more heat than Aruba in August
Never spilled the beans when the cops finally caught us
All my liquid assets is flowing like a stream
Yo my fingers are faster than Yngwie Malmstein
Everybody round me making money
I see everybody round me making money
Why can’t I?
Everybody round me making money
See now everybody round me making money, huh, huh!
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
I get my macaroni salad from Dean and Deluca
And I top my red death with the white Sambuca
Stick up kid yeah, without no errors
I’m smashing twelve hundreds on sucker rhyme sayers
Like Hendrix I freak you, like Tito I treat you
Bombin’ the L I see you
You freak, you coochie frito !
There’s something about a train!
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
Bombin’ the L, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bomb, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bombin’ the L
Bombin’ the L, Bomb, Bombin’ the L
Nah, nah, nah…
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
Lord, I can’t change
I Can’t Get With That
They try to move us, to use us
Like Judas did Jesus, to please us
Diverting the issues to misuse the peoples
And how are we gonna get ‘em?
How are we gonna vote them out?
When the wingtips got it locked up
Yeah with one thing you don’t know
Ya dig it? The freaking wingtips did it
But some of us are wise and some of us are suckers
And we all bleed red even racist motherfuckers
And I can’t get with that
No I can’t get with that (x2)
I say: No, I can’t get with that
No I can’t get with that (x2)
(x3)
I see the hos and the hustlers
Be piled up in clusters
Now since they upped the anti, and hooked up Giuliani
And the black kill the black
And Latino kill Latino, man it’s evil
The same damn story in the sequel
I thought I fought for what was right
But in the end, my friend, 20-20 is hindsight
I think I caught you out there
Chillin up in the Bahamas
I take you to Miami to meet the Dalai Lama, and
And I can’t get with that
No I can’t get with that (x2)
I say: No, I can’t get with that
No I can’t get with that (x2)
(x5)
King of New York
Frankie was a mook from the block we used to live on
The wanna be the gangster
The wanna be the dapper Don
Don John on the wall
I said: now I’m your biggest fan
Next to my little brother Paul
He losing his grip, man, like Pesci, he’d flip
And you talk to his brother he says he
Always planned this trip
He wasn’t okie-dokie running around like Don Quixote
Trying to free a man he didn’t even know B
He had the roots and he bought the suits
And the boys didn’t like him to tell you the truth
Yeah he had J.G. on his pinkie ring
And he lied about doin’ some time up in sing-sing
Flipped one fine summer afternoon
Told his brother Paulie, something had to be done soon
He took Paulie and a couple of boys and jacked the
Coup de Ville to Illinois
La-di da-di, free John Gotti
La-di da-di, la-di
La-di da-di, free John Gotti
The King of New York, man, The King of New York (x2)
He got a clipper from a stripper, he met at a club
Two sticks of dynamite and a .38 Snub
He went see the Don, without an invitation
Stood outside the gate with his three man demonstration
They was waving picket signs, and the C.O. saw a nine
And only Paulie go away with the skin on his behind
Back in the borough the cops are acting thorough
They raided Frankie’s room that’s when they saw his bureau
Upon it was a note, with a rhyme that was dope
About how he was breaking John out and how he couldn’t cope
It said, “I don’t fly coach, never save the roach
The King of New York” (x2)
I said “I never fly coach, never save the roach, The King of New York”
La-di da-di, free John Gotti
La-di da-di, la-di
La-di da-di, free John Gotti
The King of New York, man, The King of New York (x4)
The King of New York (x12)
We Have All The Time In The World
We have all the time in the world
Time enough for life to unfold
All the precious things life has in store
And we got all the love in the world
And as time goes by you will find
We need nothing more
And every step of the way will find us
With the cares of the world behind us
Yeah we got all the time in the world for love
Nothing more, nothing less, only love (x2)
Only love, yeah baby
Bear Hug
We got the crazy crew
You think you coming/taking cover we say
“Nah, nah, nah” we got the block locked up (x4)
The foes that oppose me by proxy
They try to get foxy
They try to rock me
They say they got the 40 cal Glock
With the 30 round clip
And they losing their damn grip
Well, I came back from hell so God damn fit
I’ll bust your lip, and make you strip
You can play them games
But don’t play ‘em in my park
I’ll spill a wild bill, before you get out you town car
Ranting and raving, claiming you’re armed
I’ll do the hit myself and then eat a chicken parm
Mackin’ like bumpy, and business is boomin’
I’ll chop your ass up like I was Jimmy Coonan
The westy, honey don’t test me!
Ooooh Mr. Carter, I just ate 5 blotters
And things are gettin’ kinda wacked!
If you can’t live the lie, let it die
And if you can’t live a life filled with strife
Just say oops! And jump through hoops
And get to the end of the line (x2)
We got the crazy crew
You think you coming we say
“Nah, nah, nah” we got the block locked up (x4)
I got bear hugs for my brothers
And I got no love for the others
So come on kids, you ain’t built for bids
You’ll get jacked in the ass like a sucker
“Mucho dinero” the man with the hat said
He changed his mind once the crack in his head bled
Movin’ and shakin’ the brittle illusion
Referring, concurring, and workin’ solutions
We got the crazy crew
You think you coming we say
“Nah, nah, nah” we got the block locked up (x4)
If you can’t live the lie, let it die
And if you can’t live a life filled with strife
Just say oops! And jump through hoops
And get to the end of the line (x2)
Know your man, know his game
Don’t be ashamed from whence you came
If you ask me, I’d rather have money than fame
We got the crazy crew
You think you coming we say
“Nah, nah, nah” we got the block locked up (x4)
“Nah, nah, nah”
Come Find Yourself
Now hemlock five caught me out later on
It’s the girl I told the man, but he swore he’d prove me wrong
Not seeing as I saw it as I gazed at the skyline
Someone dropped a dime, man someone took the time
Now I’m not a man with a grasp on reality
Kerouac is whack and I’m down with Dostoevsky
Sugar’s got my back plus Baretta .380’s
One of which I dropped as the man tried to bait me
Come on, come on, find yourself
Come on, come on, find yourself
It’s you, it’s always been you and it’s always been in you (x4)
Now don’t get it messed up, they got me all dressed up
To feed me to the fishes, I use my mojo for the logo
I know the soft machine and its goings on
And I’ll be damned if the man gonna spill me
You wanna see me get wild and crazy?
I’m sorry man but them threats don’t phase me
Yeah, you covered the ground but you lazy
Come on, come on contest me
Come on, come on, find yourself
Come on, come on, find yourself
It’s you, it’s always been you and it’s always been in you (x14)
Yeah baby…
Rush…weener man…
Rush…weener man…
Rush…weener man…
Rush…weener man…
Crime And Punishment
I pity the punks that partake in the madness
Yangin’ the young for their products and profits
The pushers keep pushin’ on D and on Jump Street
Pushin’ the passive pill, so ya don’t need
Kids makin’ bids, with nines in their goose downs
‘Cos college is pricey and some brothers ain’t got none
You try to discern between truth and suggestion
But they bid for your ID via fear of rejection
All I see is outfits and attitudes, congenial criminality
The hidden agenda here’s some psychic necessity
Hungry minds so sad in the hearts of darkness
Manifestin’ some forms of natural impatience
Deaf MacBeth, scar city in the slasher
Enveloping the b-boy, the doper and the thrasher
Looking to be judged but when judged by the book
Son you’re running to the hook.
Get the heck out!
Back with the funk hits, yeah, Uncle Huey
And I’m back with the funk hits
And the FLC is coming to grips
With a fist full of funk hits
Check it out!
I got the feel good hit of the year
I got two thumbs up
And I stick ‘em in the air
The man stepped to me
He wouldn’t let it end though
So I threw his ass out the Roxy Deli window
(You don’t listen, do ya?)
I ain’t pushin’ no party, I ain’t meddlin’ in Saudi
Yo I think it’s fucked up, with a feather laid on me
I’m watchin’ the news, you’re forcing people to choose
Between the lesser of two evils; my red, white, and blue
The deceiver’s deceiving because the people believe him
Now the troops are bleedin’ and their mommas are grieving
Keep on payin’ your taxes, when you don’t know the facts
Let the contracts get backed, while your conscience relaxes
Yeah, I pity the punks that partake in the madness (x4)
Methadonia
In Methadonia, they wibble and they wobble but they don’t fall down
You see the Phet has got their back
And they say it’s better than crack
Yeah, plus it keeps them mellow and passive
And takes them to the land, the land of Methadonia
There are three around my way, and all day I
See ‘em straying, up the block and down the stairs
Comin’ in groups but leaving in pairs like suckers
With their week’s supply
Yeah I and I see you selling the elixir of life
And going to the land, the land of Methadonia (x2)
Yeah it takes them to the land
The land of Methadonia
(La, la, la, la, la, la….etc)
I see you hangin’ on my stoop
You better swoop before I do
Some jammies in your eye
Because the place in which you’re sent
By your liquid orange friend has kept you from me for so long
And takes them to the land, the land of Methadonia (x3)
I Can’t Get With That (Schmoove Version)
They try to move us, to use us
Like Judas did Jesus, to please us
Diverting the issues to misuse the peoples
How we gonna get ‘em out?
How we gonna vote ‘em out?
When the wingtips got it locked up
With one thing you don’t know
Ya dig it? The freaking wingtips did it
But some of us is wise and some of us are suckers
And we all bleed red, even racist motherfuckers
And I can’t get with that
No I can’t get with that, see I can’t get with that (x2)
I say: No, I can’t get with that
No I can’t get with that (x2)
(x3)
I see the hos and the hustlers
Be piled up in clusters
Now since they upped the anti, and hooked up Giuliani
And the black kill the black
And Latino kill Latino, man it’s evil
The same damn story in the sequel
I thought I fought for what was right
But in the end, my friend, 20-20 is hindsight
(Here’s a quarter…uh, uh)
I think I caught you out there
Chillin up in the Bahamas.
I take you to Miami to meet the Dalai Lama, and
And I can’t get with that
No I can’t get with that (x2)
I said: No, I can’t get with that
No I can’t get with that (x2)
(x5)
Coney Island Girl
Coney Island girl
I know this ain’t no time to be a talking
Yo baby, I’ll understand it if you keep on walking
It’s not like I liked you anyway
It’s the way that you swagger and sway
Reminds me of a girl I used to know back in the day
Coney island girl
Now Coney don’t get mad
I gave her all that I thought I had
I must live my life alone and never kiss anyone else on the cyclone
As crazy as it seems
I’m having recurring dreams
You are not there, but she is
So now split!
Coney Island girl (x4)
