Fu-Schnickens - True Fuschnick

don't wanna grow up cuz I'm a True Fuschnick We got a million styles that we compile That we can play with I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick Repeat 3X So sit, Buddah, sit what lyrical styles should we kick? I'm a rowdy roddy piper I flash my dread sherlock Holmes The thicker the richer the bigger the dread So I don't need no honeycomb So eeney, meeney, miney, mo good goobelly goo I bumped my toe Oh-oh, "oh-oh better get Maoco" chocolate Chip's about to flow The super the cola the fraja the listic expialadope Chip When the mic is gripped in ridobidobip bip da be bong de dang, Bo! Cuz worries and boderations when i raps it up again and again But not with the same FU style I'm wicked and wild and versatile When the mic is gripped by Chip you better believe it's worth your while Pause for the cause stop make way hurry up Here I come come come My lyrical styles are not to ifos nos in other words They're not soft son rocks it rigade raggamuffin say it backwards Aggarniffum so abra Fu alacazam run come follow me man Put it by one phenomenon huminahumina I'm not done Me-oh-me oh my hello hello hi I'm not Huckleberry Finn I'm still speaking, shoo, fly Don't bother i So Fe hello hifi Fu fo, i make shapes with Pay-dough re me Near far then I will stitch sew Lipton Tea bo Tae Kwon Do Lyrics are bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling,*bubbling,*bubbling,*bubbling,*bubbling,*bubbling,*bubbling, bubbling til' they're boiled So don't drink the milk, Why? Cause it's rotten in other words it's spoiled So don't say drats, drats double or triple or quadruple drats Me big and me black and me hot up de spot G jumping Jehosphats Some mic's rhymes ain't saying jack nor Jill and of my styles they peak-a-boo o what I doo wa diddy diddy dum diddy FU So peace to his FU, peace to the FU And a true FU, Poc Fu, is what I dub you I'm a True, what I am a True Fuschnick Repeat 3X So sit, Buddah, sit what lyrical styles should we kick? Rock n' roll, rock'n roll! What's up with hip-hop, reggae, let's kick some soul I'll be a braveman like Captain Caveman Unga bunga, yapple-daple oh, snap! Holy batfu, it's an apple The capital P.O.C. is on a fliptop so hip, hip hooray Move out my way Check out what I cockadoodle doo See it's true I needed psychiatric help When I was small I had "Poc-Fu" on my nameplate belt Then at last suffering succotash I waste no more time Used my noodle yankee doodle came up with a rhyme That was wild, bugged, delirious, looney Damn! it's hittin' hard That's word to Jerry Cooney Knocking heads off shoulders rippin' em clean you can even ask iddy (why?) he know what I mean Cuz I'm a I'm a True, what? I am a True Fuschnick Repeat 3X So sit, Buddah sit what lyrical styles should we kick? Moc's on wax grip, this ain't no demo Don't even try to flex or uck-fay with my Mental contender, Apollo Time for training, jack Agenda. The M.O. also the Asian Mack In fact I will attract, shock shit, a True Fuschnick Classified as I crop to the crip Not a gimmick to the limit, upset, confused, you gotta want From the excess food called waste But a taste of oriental True Fu No haste as I pace Gogoo gogoo, nanoo-nanoo Styles that'll have you becomin' a Fuschnick too Psyche! Wait a minute, you thought that I was finished Beginnin' in a hum endin' in a beat drum Beat? You like it, it's comin' from the Tribe, side by side Third stage is the Moc Unifying lyrics until my tongue drops Considered as an mc klepto Techniques could be beat, you think so? Hell, no! Romp and rage upon the scene like a lyrical Ninja master Crazy zany voice