Food For Funk Lyrics - One Day It'll All Make Sense - Common

Common: 

What, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo 

Yo, yo yo yo, yo, yo, yo, yo 

Check it, yo 

You say a one for the trouble, two for the time 

Come on y'all, let's rock that, uh 

(I can feel the funk)(x4) 

Check it 

I come to grips with mics 

I come to grips that a lot of mic users is dikes 

I come to grips with the likes of Fred Hampton 

Cold, so I'm lampin, with no need for spotlight 

When I got light like an intersection, you talk 

But you came to my town with protection 

Election year, had the block hot 

I scream "fuck the world" for having a baby girl sorta cock block 

I write rhymes like I come from the windy city 

With my crew, I click like simply, stand midi with reality 

Casually, I walk through these war games 

Some claim say but then they take on whore names 

If that's the way your sex drives, stay in your lane 

If you're a man, I can't tell like if the door rang now 

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Chorus: 

Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in the place 

It ain't a bunch of niggaz all up in your face 

The music is thumpin and you're feelin the bass 

What you wanna do girl(wanna shout) 

To the brothas when you come in a jam, it ain't a bunch of niggaz 

It ain't high tech and ain't got free liquor 

You jackin his name and stick to make you jones get thicker 

What you wanna do man?(let go) 

Yo, check it 

Photos 

Some niggaz be on the mic, sounding like dikes 

Allow me to get on and bust like Spike(uh) 

Lee, I'm in the majors with no rotation 

Through stations of bullshit, I see through like a pager 

In the age of Aquarius, various things 

Is gonna carry us in intellect and what have you 

Street astrologists interpret point stars and half moons 

Then end up on garages or walls in bathrooms 

Every black moon, a rap tune move me 

The rap sun, I rain more than Rudy, that unruly shit is played 

It don't stop 

It's time to get it, get it made 

I got my mind made up like Foxy Brown's face 

I know how the underground tastes 

I want a crib from the ground up, rooms spin at a round pace 

Get down based on true story, through Corey, came close to the teachers 

Colder as the Iceman, posted before it start wrinklin 

Linkin with cats, who don't react to change in the years 

Fulfill prophesies in rooms full of emptiness, now 

Chorus: 

I can feel the funk(x8) 

Yo, check it, check it 

I came through the corridor, with the aura 

Raw Chicago mora, scope the horror 

Read between the lines and know the border 

Some pop wines for juice, I wait in the water 

Waitin for you Big Willie niggaz to have a show at The Crib 

We gon get with your glamour, long as we know where it is 

Tell you ain't a player by your sweater doused with wack feather 

The Crib got the gangsta playa shit patent like black leather 

I rap better than you, you, or maybe him 

But I am like a tree and every lyric is a timb 

Spilled brews and greasy foods got my car smelly 

Some be so high, they believe they fly like R. Kelly 

But then they fall off, dusted niggaz is gettin sawed off 

They fall soft, my mental lift is for me to haul off 

I kick ass 

Chorus: 

(scratching) 

I can feel the funk(x16)(makes me wanna shout, wanna shout)(x4) 

(scratching)Wanna shout