[Audio recording of Three 6 Mafia snorting hella coke]

(Like thiiis)

[Verse 1: DJ Paul]
We packin' them Glock 19's with the beams when we on the scene
Billion got 'em buggin' blowin' clean off that triple beam with BHZ
N***as hope with third world, n***as hope with the tribes
The shit that these fools burn is no tellin' though
Queens Mound in this bitch, stay down with the click
Never turned the backs or backstabbed, always super thick
Tulane, never lame, always been my fuckin' thugs
Ever since the school days, we never had nothin' but love
Smokin' sacks with my real, givin' packs to my trill
Paul Masson to my lung, for the ones that didn't live
Get as high as ya can dawg but don't let them drugs change ya
Get buck as you can fool but try to control the anger
N***as gettin' on that white, things ain't the same no mo'e
Used to kill for ya now it's like I gotta kill ya hoe
Triple 6 got the shit, mane I make you n***as choke
Gangsta B Where you be? Blow out a cloud of smoke

[Hook: DJ Paul]
To my n***as on that white: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that yellow: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that green: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that ooh: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that white: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that yellow: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that green: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that ooh: Funky Town!

[Verse 2: Juicy J]
I wanna send a shout-out to my n***as who be on that dope
Chillin' on a corner, shootin' that dice between the Indo smoke
Squad and Big Dully, Lil M, Black, Cam and Curt
Lil Blue, T-Young too, all my n***as from my turf
What's up to my n***as from the grove? I ain't forgot cha fool
Lil Glock and S.O.G, Harry T and Heavy C
N***a Creep, back in the Frayser days on Cherry Lane
Everybody kicked it like real playas with no type of gangs
Shootin' them thangs, now it's '96, I gotta stay strapped
With my Smith & Wesson, eighteen shots cocked in my lap
Bulletproof vest on my chest, when it's time to ride
Let's take a trip to the North Memphis gangsta side
You can't hide, neither can you run when a gun blast
Just another playa hater smoked in the aftermath
Bustas think we're all rap, Three 6 Mafia plus a gat
It was plenty dead motherfuckers lyin' on they back

[Hook: DJ Paul]
To my n***as on that blow: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that syrup: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that ink: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that fruity: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that blow: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that syrup: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that ink: Funky Town!
To my n***as on that fruity: Funky Town!

[Verse 3: Lord Infamous]
Choppin' these slugs at your lung but just leave 'em all drippin' within my artillery drench
From the bombs that are bustin' and baby these bitches they probably end up bleedin' to death in the rain
As there's no one who wishes to take on my Prophets of Doom, end up whipped by my nuclear boom
The devilish shit in my brain made me visualize demons surrounding my room
Cause I'm rowdy, them folks come to rumble, we full of the thunder, go straight to the dome
Do not disturb my patience when fillin' myself with the incense of top marijuan'
Lemme burn the B-U-Ds, stir that Jerk up and then freeze
Triple 6 Mafia and robbers with thieves, Memphis has put down a load of that P
Scarecrow inhalin' the forty, I mystically never get tired of inhalin' that smoke out
Satanic sound, Funky Town, come now, buck all hoes down
Bitches get stomped with a buck jump
My n***as too crunk over that funk
Paul Masson got me dead drunk
Now let the Devil Shyt bump
As I awake from the daze I was put in from the night before
Don't want to snap outta trance, I only want to smoke some more
Throw on the attire, crank the Chevy, then me race up out South
Memphis, go and visit me, Three 6 is at the smoking house

[Outro: "Throw yo Sets in da Air" samples]
Chillin' at the hideout, smokin' out, not worried 'bout a thang
Let's get in the gangsta line and throw the Funky Town sign
Ballin' through Black Haven deep as hell in the suburban mane