Fu-Schnickens
True Fuschnick (Shaheed’s Fix)
[Chorus: Fu-Schnickens]
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick
So sit, Buddah, sit, what lyrical styles should we kick?

[Verse 1: Chip Fu]
I'm a rowdy Roddy Piper, I flash my dread Sherlock Holmes
The thicker the richer the bigger the dread
So I don't need no honeycomb
So eeney, meeney, miney, mo good goobelly goo I bumped my toe
Uh-oh (Uh-oh), "Better get Maaco," Chocolate Chip's about to flow
The super the cali the fragilistic expialadope Chip
When the mic is gripped in ridobidobip bip da be bong de dang (Bo!)
No worries and moderations when I raps it up again and again
But not with the same FU style, I'm wicked and wild and versatile
When the mic is gripped by Chip you better believe it's worth your while
Pause for the cause, stop, make way, hurry up
Here I come come come
My lyrical styles are not the fastest, in other words
They're not soft son rocks it riggedy raggamuffin
(Yo, say it backwards) Aggarniffum
So abraca Fu alacazam, run, come follow me, man
Put it by one phenomenon, huminahumina, I'm not done
Better put it me-oh-me oh my, hello, hello, hi
I'm not Huckleberry Finn I'm still speaking, shoo, fly
Don't bother I
So Fe hello hifi Fu fo, I make shapes with Play-dough re me
Near far then I will stitch sew Lipton Tea bo Tae Kwon Do
Lyrics are bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling
Bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling
Bubbling 'til they're boiled
So don't drink the milk, 'cause it's rotten
In other words, it's spoiled
So don't say drats, drats double or triple or quadruple drats
Me big and me black and me hot up de spot the jumping Jehosphats
Some MC's rhymes are Jack or Jill
And at my styles they peak-a-boo
And when I doo wah diddy diddy dum diddy FU
So peace to this FU, peace to that FU
And a true FU, Poc Fu, is what I dub you
[Chorus: Fu-Schnickens]
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fuschnick
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fuschnick
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fuschnick
So sit, Buddah, sit, what lyrical styles should we kick?

[Verse 2: Poc Fu]
Rock and roll, rock and roll
What's up with hip-hop, reggae, let's kick some soul
I'll be a brave man like Captain Caveman
Unga bunga, yapple-dapple
Oh, snap! Holy batfu, it's an apple
The capital P.O.C. is on a flip tip so hip, hip hooray
Move out my way and check out what I cockadoodle doo
See, it's true, I needed psychiatric help
When I was small I had "Poc-Fu" on my nameplate belt
Then at last, suffering succotash, I waste no more time
Used my noodle yankee doodle, came up with a rhyme
That was wild (What?), bugged (Woo!), delirious, looney
Damn, it's hittin' hard, that's word to Gerry Cooney
Knockin' heads off shoulders, rippin' em clean
You can even ask Idi (Why?), he know what I mean
'Cause I'm a

[Chorus: Fu-Schnickens]
True, what? I am a True Fushnick
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick
So sit, Buddah, sit, what lyrical styles should we kick?
[Verse 3: Moc Fu]
Moc's on wax grip, this ain't no demo
Don't even try to flex or uck-fay with my mental
Contender, Apollo, time for training, jack
Agenda, the M.O., also the Asian Mack
In fact, I will attract to shock shit (A True Fuschnick)
Classified as I crop to the grit
Not a gimmick to the limit, upset, confused, gotta vomit
From the excess food called waste
But a taste of oriental True Fu
No haste as I pace, gagoo-gagoo, nanoo-nanoo
Styles that haven't come to Fuschnick to
Psyche, wait a minute, you thought that I was finished
Beginnin' in a hum, endin' in a beat drum
Beat, you like it? It's comin' from the Tribe
Side by side, third stage is the Moc
Unifying lyrics until my tongue drops
Considered as an MC klepto
Techniques could be beat, you think so? (Hell no)
Rip and rage upon the scene like a lyrical ninja master
Crazy zany voiced out styles that had ya
In a dimension as I mentioned, a True Fu steppin'
All attention to the Micken, styles that I am kickin'
Whippin', flexin', never flippin'
Asian that is hittin' hard until my cup runneth over
Like a boulder never told ya
The M.O. was in control of
Oriental styles to compile or get with
Fiend as I hold the mic with a tight grip
Slipped
That's what you get when you mess around with a True Fuschnick
[Chorus: Fu-Schnickens]
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick
So sit, Buddah, sit, what lyrical styles should we kick?
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick
I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick
So sit, Buddah, sit, what lyrical styles should we kick?