Hurro

[Sample]

Let me say something about language

We're discussing sexuality

Not everyone is comfortable talking about sex

We'll use words you may not be accustomed to

But we do this to clarify, not to shock

We hope that our openess with permission given for you (Yeah, Hurro)

We hope to help you to open the lines of sexual communication (What's up motherfuckers?)

Between you and your partner (What's up bitches?)

[Verse 1: Sesta]

Alright listen

You're better commit it. The lyricism is insane

Then suck a dick vien like Venom leaving em in pain

Quit the laying I been sayin I'm feelin like Rick James

These fingers itching to get at ya click, face slap!

You can't better the rapper that had a speech inpediment

Now he's badder then Mike Jack-son with someone's son

Getting him drunk, feeling him up

Feeling generous? (heh, give him a fuck)

Yeh I lost it my rap here's still so so

Posing in promo photos fucking homos

Into chicks over dosing getting close in

Then I'm leaving em looser than popes clothing

I poke her face with a poker face

On the first date talking about your supposed to wait

Fuck that I'm a Funkoar, hopeless waste of space

Toast to Sesta, A. Baker the great

[Verse 2: Hons]

Now we a hard act to follow

Ask your girl I got a hard cock to swallow

While I swipe half ya bottle and we back for round 2

So let the speaker sound booth

Polute everybody in the club thats around you

Me? Mr. E-grade celebrity

Who'se sick of dog cunts that are posing as a pedigree

Fuck them I should open scars

Like the Funkoars loose at an open bar

And that only rap about tits and arse for sure

Cos if a oar in your bitch then that bitch in awe

Yeh so check it, this shits become too effortless

My rhyme books pages rival that of the New Testiment

I been charmin since Bush been after Bin Laden

Ghetto pimpin in the club with ripped garments

And she still cop the stage dick

And sex sells thats the reason oars always drop your A-list

[Verse 3: Trials]

Ay well let me set it straight, then come n twist up the weather vein

24th of the 5th '83 set a date

Mr. T's name deep in the streets

Beef with me is like a three week lease on your teeth

In a few years trust me nothing has changed

Besides the fact bitches never use my government name

It's Dan Rankine, god damn fuck I'm handsome

If the hat leak seed then the skeeze hand standin

Women want a piece of the beast, rappers want a piece of the beats

And faggots want peace in the streets

'Til the cops kick the door, Funkoars

Pockets sworn raise hell like Robert Thorne with dumb borns

A good man is hard to find

Says who? take another look at sister she and there's two

How dare you compare you to F-U-N-K oars

Southport the soundboard