DJ Quik — The End?

[Intro: Garry Shider, DJ Quik] Ah, yeah, hey Wait a minute, wait a minute, y'all see I told you he'd be back Baby baby, baby baby Ayy Quik, I told 'em you'd be back (What up, Garry?) Yes, I did Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah (Ladies and gentlemen) Ah, one more—do it one more time for me (Garry Shider) Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah (Yeah, it's Parliament Funkadelic forever, say that one time) [Bridge: Garry Shider, DJ Quik] Quik be funkin' that street level, street level, street level Quik be funkin' that street level Quik be funkin' that street level, street level, street level Quik be funkin' that street level Say it, boy Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah Quik be funkin' that street level, street level, street level Quik be funkin' that street level (Thank you, Garry) I told 'em you'd be back (Thank you, Garry) Quik be funkin' that street level, street level, street level (Parliament Funkadelic) Quik be funkin' that street level (My music teachers, Parliament Funkadelic) Quik be funkin' that street level, street level, street level Quik be funkin' that street level Street, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah (Ladies and gentlemen, Garry Shider, go find it) Oh, Quik you funky, don't let 'em stop you, boy [Verse: DJ Quik] Alright, now let's get back to this 2020 shit And I'm not talking about perfect eyesight, I'm talking about the year Then give me twenty more And I'ma keep poppin' this shit until my fingers plenty sore I'm not just cuttin' any ho anymore But I love 'em thick like Demi Mo' Now I need my piano player—where did Kenny go? El Dorado rollin', got your El Camino stolen Taking off your hundred spokes to sell 'em to the old man 'Cause they looked a whole lot better when they rollin' Double it back onto your block to come pick up your woman Pharrell asked me why I gangbang That ain't your fuckin' business, stay out my lane, mayne 'Cause don't nobody wanna see my game, plain and simple Them little niggas do the damn thang, mayne Yeah, they'll be dumpin' out the Maxima Throwing flaming hatchets at ya Tiger claws scratchin' at ya They tighten you niggas up and then throw the ratchet at ya And when you mark niggas flip, we the spatula The eighty-eight degrees with the lucky number seven It's woop music on your block, knockin' with my brethren I mold you into the shape of an octahedron While inspiring to be your headache aspirin—Excedrin I'm compelled to find every word that rhymes with orange You might be bouncing the door but I'm the door hinge I'll knock you out and in, go to the mountain then Exclaim it out that that nigga Quikster is 'bout to win Ol' bitch ass nigga on Don Tomaso said he's never heard of me You're nothin' but a buster, insignificant nerd to me Yeah, nigga, word to me Keep gum-bumpin' I'll bust your head open where the curb should be You’ll be talkin' out the side of your neck on purpose, G Gaping wounds in your torso, you fade out worthlessly You haters ain't heard the worst of me I'll bring you voodoo so fast, you'll think you on Bourbon Street [Instrumental]