Aftermath

[Intro: Dirty Red]
Aight players, aight G's
Hustlers, pimps, macks, real niggas and all that
The time has come
And what a time to drop real gangster poetry on that ass
Haha, yeah
Comin' at you from the underworld - the Aftermath
A group of underground lunatics brought together on mission
Of destruction
So all you bitches and hoes beware, for what lurks beyond in the darkness
Gives true meanin' to the words totally insane
187, mo' motherfucking murderous homicidal skills for you suckers
Stay down and get that ass clowned
KM.G, the motherfucking undertaker, the bitch breaker
So hoes if you didn't know, now you do
So that's just the first clue from a nigga on a mission
You see, chronic is way of life, G
So spray a peace to mothers and get butted the fuck out
Awww yeah, with dopeness comes a man named Kokane
Influential in amount, believin' in a certain theory
That all players must come correct
Either that or he'll gets no respect
You see, it's all about makin' yours in this life time
So with that said, I would like to introduce one more player in this game
A nigga named Shaki a/k/a the K
A nigga known for breakin' suckas off
So y'all believin' in the theory of elevation
Reason bein', I got the fly, fly shit for that ass
So here it is players, aww yeah, bitches too
The fly shit for you
So tune in and get faded with the Aftermath, niggas

[Hook: Cold 187um & KMG](x2)
Funk them up
Funk 'em up, funk 'em up, from the Westcoast
Funk 'em up, funk 'em up, funk 'em up
Funk 'em up, funk 'em up, from the Eastcoast
Funk 'em up, funk 'em up, funk 'em up

[Verse 1: Cold 187um]
Aw, comin' through the motherfuckin' side door
Checkin' all the niggas and clockin' all the hoes
Before you jump up and get wile e' like coyote
You better ask your bitch if she knows me
(ooooohhhhh)
Cause I got two pounds of baking soda and two pounds of coke
I bought her bitch her Baby, some pampers, so I can stroke
(KMG: So you can call them when you want to, baby)
Yah, right, because I've just told you homie the same two nights ago
Or should I say four scores ago
So bow wow, wow, wow, yippi yay, yippi yo, ho
Because to play you is my only wish
Yo, so pass me the skin so I can rush it like Emmitt Smith
And then I have to count boyd that ass, tore that ass
Pimp that ass and straight funk that ass
I guess you motherfuckers get the clue (what up?)
Something for the cut up, Chevy's to hop to "yeah"
I maybe in your Coupé, or Jeep or your Wagon
I maybe makin' dollars but I'm not braggin'
I give my props to my niggas in the penal, see
For tryin' to come up, Gettin' caught up in the system G
It's like a game, never pick'd to win
So I'll see you when you get out if not when I get in (Well, alright)
Cause I'm not a Rodney King Part Two
So I'm a smoke one for me and smoke a gang for you

[Verse 2: KMG]
Nigga, nigga, nigga, aww shit
The ho' gigolo flow quick
So... what's the word?
I've just served a bird to the ho' with the Deuce on the corner
The green eyed hooker with the juice and the toners
The king black macademian Funk bone
Hit the loot stick? quick and fade Al Capone
Let me take my hat off
And peep my Madonna, sex magazine
Freak all the nymphos I'm a pussy fiend
Ooh, Mister Mister, twister twister is what they call me
Then they bore me
Hoes on my Diznick, I'm livin' a revelation
I'm kickin' the real shit, fuck the nigga's reputation (fuck it)
Glock to the dome, what up?, I'll straight fuck ya'
Or told my nigga Shake, .45 he'll buck ya
Or I'm a trip and bring K-Oss in it
Or my nigga Mack fuckin' re-up to Pimp Clinic
So, I'm a ask you a question (what up Loc'?)
Do you wanna die for me? (yeah)
Or do you wanna die for my Kokane that's 17-5 a ki?

[Verse 3: Dirty Red]
Awww yeah, I sit leanin' on my toners when I'm bellin'
Through the crooked streets deep in Cali' where I'm dwellin'
Sellin' mobile dubs cause I gotta make a dolla'
Finna' drop the top on my rag-trey-Impala
I'm droppin' loco nigga out there doin sharin' dirt
Got two hoes on the corner and they feeling put in work
Now I pimps, though I keeps my pimping on the down low
Too many hoes will get a nigga in some trouble
And so I'm... bumped the three wheel motion
Hit the corner quick, feeling like the Chronic stick
And get higher than a motherfuker
I got a beap fo' the sky pager, trick ass bitch
But just in time so it's off to the next stage
Yeah, picked up my mobile phone, to make a booty call
Creepin' down Crenshaw, watchin' out for the law (yeah, the motherfuckers)
Cause the police quick to put the nigga on the side of the curb
And take a chunk of my bird, G
It leaves a nigga like short
But I ain't wet? them up, I got the dope from the street motherfuckers

[Interlude: Cold 187um]
Aww yeah, The Aftermath
Journey through this Aftermath
Kokane is here
Here goes Kane, check this out

[Verse 4: Kokane]
Now I'm comin' around, comin' around, comin' around the fuckin' mountain
Wettin' niggas up like a motherfuckin' fountain
So don't clone me, don't get attached
Cause some of you niggas' style's more faker than a Wrestler Match
Added preservatives, artificial flavors
Baking soda free, said I say a fuckin' savior
If you're R&B house Music, I'll say hell no
Think that Donnie Simpson will have Kokane on his show?
Who gives the funk shit like that? you know it's weak
Cause G shit came from the concrete
So take a seat in the back jack, known I gots to strap
No longer will there be a white motherfucker dictating what is real rap
You motherfucking hypocrites
When your ass is used to promoting that heavy metal shit
To the K to the O to the K to the A, to that's N-E we flow
My name is Kokane, never simple the reason I'm dope
So Bon Voyage I gots the stack
And I'm out like Schwarzeneger but I'll be back
(Fuck them up)