Cosmic Slop - Redman

Yeah, bout to fly that knot

Redman, Keith Murray, Erick Sermon with the, Cosmic Slop

And we all pack Glocks

Word is Bond, word is bond

Fuck around and get shot

As I flip, skip to the beat, on wax, and tax

I react with tons of macs, a ball, and some jumping jacks

Flyin expert, puttin in work

No question, cosmic funk and weed session

Like GangStarr, step up, it’s Hard to Earn

But I change up the mode, and blow up the globe

The bandit, spittin dialect umm (UMMM)

Catchin wreck umm (UMMM)

One two micraphone check (UMMM)

Attention passenger’s we’re on a non-central journey

To Hell and beyond

FUNKADELIC DROP THE BOMB!

Boo-yaa!

I’m that type of nigga to give it to ya

My Cosmic Slop rules all blocks with funk maneuvers

My flow freeze the Nile, The Funk Child splits the river

Then I crush, like the bom-ba-zee was rushed, through my verbal lust

I’m spaced out, I LOST MY MIND ON CLOUD 19

VISINE FOR EYES, when I blow Alpines

Dial 9, 0−0, For the hero of the wierdos

I hope my brain don’t bust

Transform into a 7−11 Slurpie Slush

IT’S THE FLY, My music will burn eyes

Twice the chemical of Clorox

Then I do an autopse on four cops

When my jaws drop, ock, I fidget my nuts alot

Got the two Glocks, with oowops then bodies trace the chalk

I’m like an eclipse on a Friday, the 13th

With black cats and Haley’s Comet, blazin blunts in my driveway

Nostradamus predicted, for you funk fiends

That Def Squad will get the fuckin cream like Noxzema

For those that remember pics and afros (it's on like that)

Platform shoes and bell-bottoms some got em

Spaced out, way out, is what I’m talkin about

In the Cosmic Slop of the Ghetto

Zuzuzuzuzu, zuzuzu, zuzu zuzu zuzu

Zu zuzu, zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu zuzu

With amazing manifestations, I dictate to nations

More Cosmic Funk innovations in my creation

This Cosmic sick mic cylcicyst

Mega segments, be Sega, like Genesis

I orbits the solar system, listenin

Guzzlin, never sippin, or slippin and sympin when the track is rippin

I gotcha brain cells bendin and twistin

Man listen, I give your whole crew an acid drenching

Just for mentionin, goin that route, runnin yo mouth

You get your head smacked off towards down South

And your crew too will be spaced out

Way out, no doubt, y’all niggas need to stop

And get with this Cosmic Slop

(Cosmic Slop, Cosmic Slop)

And now, we program, we program

Pop in the disk and who the hell is this?