Artist: George Clinton Album: Hey Man... Smell My Finger Song: Martial Law (Original Version) * Typed by: dy_face@hotmail.com * Track #1; the other "Martial Law" is a remix [Music from *The Flag Was Still There* fades out] Nahh, oohhh, nanahh, nanahh ahhh.. ..and the flag was still there, waving on while we dance.. [Intro] Boosting the bass volume to a deaf range Cracking a bottle of champagne, they exchanged lyrical gratifications verbalizing the form of a toast [Chorus] It's gonna take Martial Law, curfew ain't gonna get it It's gonna take Martial Law, we're used to funking after hours It's gonna take Martial Law, curfew ain't gonna get it It's gonna take Martial Law, we're used to funking after hours Yeaaah whores, ain't nothing but a party [Verse One: George Clinton] Check, funk is dead is what they said While sitting around cheating at pool.. smooth Bags bagging and they weren't bragging to tell the truth They were looking real cool They were choked up tight in their white on white Cocoa brown fronts were down They wore candy striped ties hanging down to their flies Sported gold dust crowns [Chorus: X2] It's gonna take Martial Law, curfew ain't gonna get it It's gonna take Martial Law, we're used to funking after hours [Verse Two: Unidentified Artist] Before I shrivel up and die Let me tell you a little story about the FBI The CIA, LAPD of the USA Ask them why I list them, talking about that system Let us take a look and see what's up today They're taking away the rights from people, that's wrong What did King say: "Can't we get along?" Beat down by the man whose check he paid Stacey Koons was just a drop, in the bucket full of wicked cops No fire hose could wash that blood away [Break: P-Funk Sample] Ca-chase the cat!! - Ca-chase the cat!! we're used to funking after hours Ca-chase the cat!! - Ca-chase the cat!! [Chorus: X2] [Verse Three: George Clinton] It was the fifteenth frame of a straight pool game And they all stood digging the play With an idle shrug they suddenly dug A strange cat moving their way We was a medium build cat with a funny type hat Looked about five years old, he wore a messed up vibe He needed a shine, she shivered as if he was cold Ahh.. but to all the other guys, they summized The dude was a motherfucking flunky But the well-trained eyes of how the mothership files You could tell the sucker was funky Homeboy grinned as a dude moved in, asking had they seen the doc They said they hadn't seen him but heard he as fiending He had went to the studio to cop Ahh.. but if you got eyes copping size I can cop the 'P' ~ I'm in the flow; LPs, CDs, Cassettes and 8-tracks, all good to go Ohh.. but you got to post bail, my man's wholesale He's the only connect I know Flash me some bread the brother said Freeze here while I go score Well I got the bread but I'm leary, he said I'm playing with the big band you know Homey had plans to burn the man, to take his money and blow But then he hesitated, ahh.. cause he had underestimated Now he's got to do the real show Aww.. he said I can cop a piece on a small time lease You don't have to put up no ends, find you a stump to fit your rump, I'll sure back in ten Ahh.. but as the brother stepped off Up crept another brother, yo, grab yourself a stick Said the littel man I'm not a throw off, worse yet I'ma show-off As he chalked and broke the balls with his dick Running the three, the five, the seven and twelve Blood said your mamma and the fifteen fell With combinations of English and banking He cued up to break rack three, yo, looking over his bridge Past the ball to the figure near the wall Stroking his stick, saying hold my thing while I go P [Chorus: X2] [Verse Four: George Clinton] Taking the cue from the man in view He followed him into out of sight Where upon he paused or rather he stopped Pressing the rewind then play on the beat box The funk was a phoney, a fake and a fraud, bootleg copies to boot Not funky with a P on it but funk with a three on it Now comes the time to salute He says here's to begging duplicating and bootlegging Here's to the funk on which I'm high The man made a pass, flashed a gold colored badge and said here's to I'm the FBI Homeboy grinned as he said my friend You want to make an example out of me Cause I stole a little funk and I sold a little bunk funk Some pervert rapes your daughter and goes free The man said with a grin, that's not why you lose and I win If you're ging to steal the funk, steal the motherfucking P! [Hook: X2] Ladda ladda ledda ladda ladda, ladda ladda ledda ladda ladda Ladda ladda ledda ladda ladda, ladda ladda ledda ladda ladda [Chorus: X2] [Outro] Martial Law!! Used to funking after hours, Martial Law Martial Law!! Never missing a beat, yeah! Ladda ladda ledda ladda ladda Martial Law!! Ladda ladda ledda ladda ladda Awwwwwwww woooooowww, ladda ladda ledda ladda ladda Whatever the party goes for, whatever it takes Whatever the party goes for, whatever it takes Whatever the party goes for, whatever it takes