Tonight's Da Night
    (专辑: Whut? Thee Album - 1992)
    
    [Redman]  Mic check, I 
can get smooth to any groove  Relax the 
tongue, let my mic take a 
cruise  around the 
planet, pack em in like Janet  Jackson, she's askin if I 
can slam it  I'm....   [Hurricane G]  Yo yo Redman! Man what the 
FUCK man?  Get the 
FUCK off that.. punk smoov shit man!  Get with that ROUGH shit man, you know how we do!   [Redman]  Mic check, I 
walk around the 
streets with a 
black tech nine  by the 
waistline, kickin the 
hype shit  I 
never claim to be the 
best type of rapper  But hafta, show them motherfuckers what I'm after  I'm after the 
gold, then after that the 
platinum  Beef after that, Hurricane G 
packs the 
gat son  Trigger, bang, bang, yo bust the 
slang, whut my name?  It's the 
Redman on the 
funk thang  Psyche, you're motherfuckin right, tonight's the 
night  To do what I 
wanna do, to do it like dynamite  The 
work perfected, when the 
funk been ejected  I 
roughen up the 
rough draft to like make your head split  Punk! Pass the 
40 and the 
blunt and don't front  on the 
block, cause when you do front, brothers are gettin stomped  I'm not a 
addict, more like Puff than Magic  Then pass it when I'm through cause my crew gots to have it  I 
don't claim to be a 
big rap star  cause no matter who you are, you'll still catch a 
bullet scar  So listen up and take heed to what I'm sayin  Cause tonight's the 
night and me and my niggaz ain't playin   Fat black bitch! Nasty..  bush bear, booga breath bitch  Nasty, talk to your tits bitch  with them nasty Africans, Mr. Bojangles  Turned up shoes havin ass..  Lemming leprechaun haircut motherfucker!   You wanna see me get cool, please, save it for the 
breeze  cause the 
lyrics and tracks, make me funky like cottage cheese  Fuck the 
smoov shit, I 
get down wit the 
boom bip  like Q-Tip, I 
kick more styles than Bruce shoe's kick  But tonight's the 
night what I 
write tonight  This type of funk with the 
flavor like Mike'n'Ike's  Hanging out wit my niggaz, my niggaz  The 
{Pack Pistol Posse} keep they fingers on the 
triggers  I 
keep the 
40 between my lap, coolin, rollin down the 
highway  Blunt system pumps cause it's Friday  Roll over to pick my boys up, we raise a 
lot of noise  cause, we can do that black, so get the 
bozack jack  Remember, I 
do the 
type of evil that men do  Like cursin out my window at a 
bitch and her friend too  So turn the 
volume up a 
notch  and watch the 
ba-BUMP, ba-BUMP, make ya speakers pop  That's the 
funk, when it pumps it makes your rump  jump, jump, jump.. jump, jump, jump  But if you want to see a 
fly but frantic  cool romantic, more Slick=er than my man Rick  You better check the 
Yellow Pages under smoov shit  cause Red ain't down for the 
bullshit  Niggaz fucked up by letting me make an album (How come rude bwoy?)  To get on the 
mic and let my fuckin style run   Nasty fuckin greenthumb Jolly Green niggaz  Tango mango, pickin havin ass  Nasty epileptic disease crazy havin ass  Johnny Cash, afro havin  Jack of Spades, boots havin  Tony Danza, shoes wearin ass!   B-b-b-black by popular demand, I 
expand  My hand to the 
mic and let my mouth kick the 
flim flam  I 
get sex, I 
get wreck, I 
puff mad blunts  I 
get vexed, I 
break necks, punch out gold fronts, chump  You...   Yo, fuck that, yo turn this shit off man  Turn this shit off, G 
 Boom the 
new record on, knahmsayin?