Check it, check it, microphone check it
The crowd went wild when the Lords came to wreck it
Ayo, check it, check it, check it, check it, microphone check it
Here it is, Mr. Funke, grand microphone wrecker
God's gift to hip-hoppers, the Lord Chief Rocker
Number one, here I come, here I come, better run
You know it's time to get down when the Lords come to town
Do the Brown, jump up and down
The Lords wear the crown because I flip styles to rip styles
(But can you make it funky, child?)
Sweat for the rocks and stuff that I have to oil on my nuts
I'm like knock knock (Who is it?)
My damn (My damn who?)
My damn foot's stuck in the door, so
Won't you please come open it up, dude
Invest in fresh funky so I can make it funky
(Make it funky? Yo, who's funky? Are you funky?) Yes, I'm funky
A lot of brothers think they're Mr. Funky, but they're dead wrong
They're just a bunch of clones who might go need to go home
And please just take what you please, memories can be your nightmare
After the pain is here so easy to say goodbye and go both way
Check it, check it, microphone check it
The crowd went wild when the Lords came to wreck it
Now, microphones get checked on the one and two tip
And now I'm glad it's night so I can sing like a pip
I need a stadium (Why?) I'm overflowin' my cranium
I know my songs are diesel cause I hear the people sayin' 'em
Screamin', doin' all that game, what's the meanin'?
(I get her, I gun her, she got done by the dunny)
But never mind my attitude, I'm here to give off shoots
Of gifts from the lips, flow, flow like the good ship
The good ship? What's the good ship? The lolly pop
The Lords, the Lords, ooh, they drive a hip-hop
And don't misjudge your step, cause I get iced like an alpha
And let my naps and jump as if my name was Alfalfa
Collect my dough in stacks, so yes, I am a stacker
And if this was football, I'd be a Green Packer
So, yo, bust a chance to get wrecked with the mic check
Without a one-two and I still flip the script
Check it, check it, microphone check it
The crowd went wild when the Lords came to wreck it
Of course it's the Lords that'll keep your fingers poppin'
There's a lot of girls on my noggin jockin' when I'm knockin'
A lot of brothers simply just don't know where I come from
Call yourself steppin' to the Lords, that's just so dumb
How you gonna step to the Lords when you know you'll just get broken?
You gotta be jokin'
I think you're tryin' to be like
Poochie cause you're really broken out
With no clout, tryin' to take me out, what you talkin' 'bout?
You might say, damn, Mr. Funke's raw, what you expect, huh?
I don't play, I'm puttin' rappers away like I'm a collector
I slide on your pride, cross all over your self-esteem
And dance all over your confidence and stomp all on your dreams
And this is just a warning from the Tug, don't mess around, G
Or you'll be level with Elvis or level with Liberace
And if anybody ask me, I'll admit that I hit him
I did him, took his rhymes, papers, and wiped my butt with 'em
Check it, check it, microphone check it
The crowd went wild when the Lords came to wreck it
Well, on inch rolls to stage shows, here's the brown bro
Equipped with shades so I can play the low pro
Foul, not up in that buckwild
As I tug my nuts and all my grillers know smile
I give a check for respect and let my lips sink shut
Is this what you want? Well, this is what you get
So, yo, pass the chisel, the bang-bang, the wang-wang
The suckers who play-play with doo-ray
I need a puff check, a weed check without the milk mic check
Just so I can see who will rip it up next
(I'm Mr. Funke) No, Funke, slow down, baby
I need another second, I forgot to add the gravy
Mmm, it's tasty, oh so delicious
Got an underground dinner and it's packed with nutrition
So, yo, watch the stage as I jet from sweat
I bet you never heard a brother end with a mic check
Check it, check it, microphone check it
The crowd went wild when the Lords came to wreck it
No Tugs, we out
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