🎵 True Fuschnick (Shaheed’s Fix) // by Fu-Schnickens

1 ContributorTrue Fuschnick (Shaheed’s Fix) Lyrics [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?