Chuck D - Tweakin' lyrics

Three-way, six-detachable Speaker system With soft ejection Auxiliary output Extra input So you can plug into And make connections Hi diddle-diddle This cat on the fiddle Was k**in' 'em Recorded him on my tapedeck Hi diddle-diddle This cat on the fiddle Was k**in' 'em Recorded him on my tapedeck Just when I reach the point Where I was peakin' 'Bout that time Imagination start to peepin' That's when my other voices Start to speakin' Speakin' in drum Drummin' it into a tweak Voice so loud Pinnin' the needle Bangin' in the red Noone hears Nothing's heard cause nothing's said It's the chokin' kind Remember the livin' Remember the dead Speakin' in drum Drummin' it into a tweak Drowning out the voices In my head Follow follow? (Do you) Follow follow? Shot rang out everybody ran for cover The evening news broke the story of two mothers One's son is dead k**ed by the son of the other Escalatin' the violence to a peak Tweak Hi diddle-diddle This cat on the fiddle Was k**in' 'em Recorded him on my tapedeck To the curb (x3) Three-way, six detachable Speaker systems With soft ejection Tweak Auxiliary output Extra input So you can plug into And make connections Caught in a land That pitted the poor man Against the police When it's hard to live It's twice as hard To keep the peace It's the chokin' kind Remember the livin' Remember the dead Poor is the poor man So is the police Violence of a tweak Cue me about A cool place to start Attention all radio-stations jocks I got the beat Serious-slammin' on my box So what I try My best to do Is keep the decibels Up so high My neighbors call the cops Now when the thang Get to tweakin' You know the groove is peakin' I mean hard OK now I know You know what I mean I keep a party On my record machine Do me a favor Don't let so many commercials Disrupt the playlist Mr. E. Tiddyock Is what makes me say this About groove control Well there's no such thang When I turn on my box I'm ready to swing So I can go Down, down Get down with it I be throwin' down But you gotta be down To get it We tweakin' on my radio Serious-slammin' on my box Get off my jock! I take your buns And turn 'em into the B's I take your soul And turn it into some cheese I'll take your radio And turn it into stereo Now we livin' large boy Break out the Casio So we can get busy Show me that you ain't dizzy Only Lizzie is fizzy I'm in my Flavor-mobile I'm cold-lampin' I this G upstate Cold campin' To the Poconos We call the Hideaways With a bag of franks And a big bag of Frito-Lays Hey yo, Chuck! They don't know What I'm sayin' You know what I'm sayin'? Word up man And if y'all don't know What I'm sayin' Then act like You wanna be stayin' But we ain't playin' Know what I'm sayin'? Yo, Chuck, man Kick some Kick some ballistics, man What's your beeper Tellin' you man? My beeper's tellin' me They sweatin' me home They sweatin' me, man Yo, there's many ways To kick it round We gon' kick it The same 'round once again You know what I'm sayin' But this time in time Aw right, c'mon let's go You know what I'm sayin'? We ain't playin' The P-Funk of the drummer On the beat box The band supporter Go get a quarter Somethin' y'all That spills like water Can't lower the volume Dare to consume The rhythm y'all Comin' through the speaker y'all Network Net-a-work-a Work-connect Cold slammin' like the New York Mets Know what I'm sayin'? They don't know what I'm sayin' They don't know what we're screamin', shoutin' Yo Flavor Do you know what I just said? Do the people know what I'm talkin' about? I know what you said But let me tell you George Clinton's got the head You know what I'm sayin'? Let me tell you somethin', yo! George will tell ya Hold my jam-e while I go P You understand what I'm sayin'? Cause that's the way it be Cause his name is George And his last name begins with a C You understand what I'm sayin'? Follow, follow Hey, yo, Butch man What's up pop? Hey, yo, Tracy With the Panasonic What's up man? Yo man We gonna rock that Why B-side 'round man You wanna rock the B-side Food for the brain Beat for the feet People on the dance floor Never claiming a receipt Had a good time Rock-n-rollin' On the go behind The rhythm supplied By the superior B-side They had the twist That turn and shout Turn the jam out Get you ready now C'mon The situation put you in to where you sweatin' An hysterical B-side C'mon inside Request the best They give a test And never gave a rest Your guess as good As my guess And while you're guessin' You're guessin' Yo listen This a DJ to play To give a lesson in His name is George Clinton In the house