Doin' Our Own Dang

Me, plug three, the one they call baby Huey The one that gets all the money (all the money) Yeah, that's right A fat, funky fruit with a whole lot of tang, a little something called doing our own thang Breaking the beat others worse they broke, bass line so dope that you just might choke Don't bite off something that you can't chew, and don't trail behind when I'm coming through Fronting the feel that you really can't feel 'cause you're trying to feel what's on my reel to reel A tree is growing, can't you see what I see? A white blue fruit to boot We count to ten before we pass the crews, now that's family Equipped with the brothers and the sisters, and the sisters and the brothers And all others With the funky flairs, the bugged-out hairs It's the life of Riley, I'm really ready Gazing at the dollar fill of rap, the cool June bugs, the wicks, the wacks Praise the rhythms for what it beez, and praise the lord for the J. B's We're doin' our own dang (we're doin' our own dang) We're doin' our own dang (we're doin' our own dang) We're doin' our own dang (we're doin' our own dang) We're doin' our own dang (we're doin' our own dang) Isn't it cool when you cut your hair and the blood is red instead of sellout green? This is not the music for an R&B mind, this is flower intertwined with a vine (In other words, this is rose) you see what I mean? Or see what grandpa Bam saw The funk we transmit is unstable, one condition if I am able to say (Yes, you may) well hey, let's get on with it Vocal confetti is thrown, sometimes spitted, out the vents of hecklers and fans Either which way they all hop on the van, the band, the band, here comes the band The tribe of fingers all on one hand, me, myself, and I is dark Monie love the mouthpiece, it's now yours to spark Sister Monie, the only one here who missed a plane back to London Residing with my brothers and I learned a lot from them About the group, how to be smooth and play funky And sometimes rated, it's kind of funky, but it's cool For we are beyond the stereotypes, coordination crazy, but still it sounds hype Rocking on and off beat, and I do believe I'm right (you're right) Am I wrong? (Yeah, son) Don't be mad, be glad I missed the plane, I'm staying With the brothers' Jungle, soul, and the tribe I'm saying Funky-funky rhymes that always stay in swing I believe we doing our own thing We're doin' our own dang (we're doin' our own dang) We're doin' our own dang (we're doin' our own dang) We're doin' our own dang (we're doin' our own dang) We're doin' our own dang (we're doin' our own dang) Well, my family sets all the trends, from soul to soul, large to lose ends And I'm inside groups like kill? ('Cause that's where the money's at) Yeah, the industry's filled with copycats, R&B mixed with sloppy raps Tribes like us always open doors, but what for? So you can get yours? You ain't in to it, all you want is profit, so I ask you please to stop it Leave me alone, get off my bone 'cause I'm doing my own thang A new seed, a new breed, a new man you to feed the greed A new pair of boots for a new piece of butt Sweet daddy, are you there? (Sammy B is on the cut!) Spinning back for a rap that's laid back, ready to kick back, those get no slack I may rock a rhyme, or I may start to sing, but still, I'm doing my own thing In comes the mood of jungle and daisies, play the same and let the vibes grace me All hold hands and let's walk about, and form a circle and talk about Don't follow the path that we're stepping, truth to the soul is what I'm cramming Reasons for this is that the family's strong, and like Bob Marley said, "We're jammin'" Seeing is believing, so see and believe, and let the groove of the new proceed A whole bunch of love, peace signs, and fun, so let's do what's got to be done, you know? And personally I feel, you know, we're doing our own thing, you know No stereotype or anything like that, and I believe that's a healthy thing to do, what do you think? But now I feel like...