Lyrics
I got a bone to pick
I don't want you monkey-mouth motherfuckers sittin' in my throne again
Ayy, ayy, nigga, what's happenin'? K-dot back in the hood, nigga!
I'm mad (he mad!), But I ain't stressin'
True friends
One question

Bitch, where you when I was walkin'?
Now I run the game, got the whole world talkin'
King Kunta, everybody wanna cut the legs off him
Kunta, black man taking no losses, oh yeah
Bitch, where you when I was walkin'?
Now I run the game, got the whole world talkin'
King Kunta, everybody wanna cut the legs off him
When you got the yams (what's the yams?)

The yam is the power that be (that be, that be, that be, that be, that be)
You can smell it when I'm walkin' down the street
(Oh yes, we can, oh yes, we can)
I can dig rappin'
But a rapper with a ghost writer?
What the fuck happened? (Oh no)
I swore I wouldn't tell (tell, tell, tell, tell)
But most of y'all sharing bars
Like you got the bottom bunk in a two-man cell (a two-man cell)
Something's in the water (something's in the water)
And if I gotta brown-nose for some gold
Then I'd rather be a bum than a motherfuckin' baller (oh yeah)

Bitch, where you when I was walkin'?
Now I run the game, got the whole world talkin'
King Kunta, everybody wanna cut the legs off him
King Kunta, black man taking no losses, oh yeah
Bitch, where you when I was walkin'?
Now I run the game, got the whole world talkin'
King Kunta, everybody wanna cut the legs off him (King Kunta)
When you got the yams (what's the yams?)

The yam brought it out of Richard Pryor (Pryor, Pryor, Pryor, Pryor)
Manipulated Bill Clinton with desires
24/7, 365 days times two, I was contemplatin' gettin' off stage
Just to go back to the hood, see my enemy, and say (oh yeah)

Bitch, where you when I was walkin'?
Now I run the game, got the whole world talkin'
King Kunta, everybody wanna cut the legs off him
King Kunta, black man taking no losses, oh yeah
Bitch, where you when I was walkin'?
Now I run the game, got the whole world talkin'
King Kunta, everybody wanna cut the legs off him

You goat-mouth mammyfucker
I was gonna kill a couple rappers, but they did it to themselves
Everybody's suicidal, they ain't even need my help
This shit is elementary, I'll probably go to jail
If I shoot at your identity and bounce to the left
Stuck a flag in my city, everybody's screamin', "Compton!"
I should probably run for mayor when I'm done, to be honest
And I put that on my momma and my baby boo too
20 million walkin' out the court buildin', woo-woo!
Aw, yeah, fuck the judge
I made it past 25, and there I was
A little nappy-headed nigga with the world behind him
Life ain't shit but a fat vagina
Screamin', "Annie, are you okay? Annie, are you okay?"
Limo tinted with the gold plates
Straight from the bottom, this the belly of the beast
From a peasant to a prince to a motherfuckin' king (oh yeah)

Bitch, where you when I was walkin'?
By the time you hear the next pop
The funk shall be within you
Now I run the game, got the whole world talkin'
King Kunta, everybody wanna cut the legs off him
King Kunta, black man taking no losses, oh yeah
Bitch, where you when I was walkin'?
Now I run the game, got the whole world talkin'
King Kunta, everybody wanna cut the legs off him

Funk
Funk, funk
Funk, funk, funk, funk, funk, funk, funk, funk
We want the funk!
We want the funk!
Now if I give you the funk, you gon' take it?
We want the funk!
Now if I give you the funk, you gon' take it?
We want the funk!
Now if I give you the funk, you gon' take it?
We want the funk!
Do you want the funk?
We want the funk!
Do you want the funk?
We want the funk
Now if I give you the funk, you gon' take it?
We want the funk!

I remember you was conflicted, misusing your influence

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Ahmad A. Lewis, David Blake, Johnny Burns, Kendrick Duckworth, Mark Anthony Spears, Michael Joe Jackson, Stefan Kendal Gordy




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