Ah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Funkmaster Flex here with the Final Chapter.
Volume 3, understand that. Squadron - Das EFX, Keith Mur', Redman, and
Nocturnal. EPMD ‘98, understand that. New year, new chear. New cash
flow, understand it, 1-2. Yeah, feel me on this one, uh-uh..
We up in D and D, makin it happen once more
I'm lookin for the Fugees, to split The Score
Y'know what I mean, I'm out for the dough, no less
When I get a hundred mill, to spend, there's no stress
And you cats kill me
It takes more than dreams to fulfill me, y'all feel me?
Cock the automatic
I'm systematic
Michael Jackson Screaming
On those emcees not believing
I got up and I wrecked em quickly
Black out, no doubt, you won't even believe Ripley
Don't shit me, I see right through your frame, its frail
You and your crew live a tall tale
Squadron, understand it
ED, the Black human-being, The Green-Eyed Bandit
Come inside, and let me show you whats about
Like Sean "Puffy" Combs, boy, there's No Way Out, nigga
[Parrish Smith]
EPMD, Funk Flex, yo, Volume 3: Final Chapter
Gotta blast ya, crash ya, total your frame, when I smash ya
You get plastered, trying to fuck with the master
The MC slasher, stock bonds, and check casher
The rapper for neons, crushing peons
Nice like ?be-on?, in ‘98, EPMD's on
The grand finale, from New York, Back to Cali
Ghetto style, for the projects and the street alleys
Funk Flex, desert eagle with the techs
Teflon vest, hollowpoints, with the silver tips
Ties chrome-dipped, leather for the Benz whip
Diamond bracelet, plus a muzzle for the wild pit
The Squadron, shutting shit down in a hurry
EPMD, Red, Noc', Das, plus Keith Murray
Word them up. EPMD. Erick Sermon, Parrish Smith, for the ‘98. Final
Chapter: Volume 3, Funk Flex
