Doin' Our Own Dang

Me, Plug Three, the one they call Baby Huey

The one that gets all the money

All the money

Maybe that's right

A fat funky fruit with a whole lot of tang

A little something called, doing our own thang

Breaking the beat others wished they broke

Baseline so dope that you just might choke

Don't bite off something that you can't chew

And don't trail behind when I'm coming through

Fronting the feel that you really can't feel

'Cause you're trying to feel what's on my reel to reel

A tree is growing, can't you see what I see? A white blue fruit to boot

We count to ten before we pass the crews

Now that's family equipped with the brothers and the sisters

And the sisters and the brothers, and all the others

With the funky flairs, the bugged-out hairs

It's the life of Riley, I'm really ready, gazing at the dollar fill of rap

The cool June bugs, the wicks, the wacks

Praise the rhythms for what it being, and praise the Lord for the JB's

We're doing our own thang

We're doing our own thang

We're doing our own thang

We're doing our own thang

Isn't it cool when you cut your hair

And the blood is red instead of sellout green

This is not the music for an R n' B mind

This is flower intertwined with a vine

In other words this is rose

You see what I mean? Or see what Grandpa Bam saw

The funk we transmit is unstable

One condition if I am able to say

Yes you may, well hey, let's get on with it

Vocal confetti is thrown, sometimes spitted

Out the vents of hecklers and fans

Either which way they all hop on the van

The band, the band, here comes the band

The tribe of fingers all on one hand

Me, myself, and I is dark

Monie Love the mouthpiece, it's now yours to spark

Sister Monie, the only one here who missed a plane back to London

Residing with my brothers and I learned a lot from them

About the group, how to be smooth and play funky

And sometimes rated it's kind of funky, but it's cool

For we are beyond the stereotypes

Co-ordination crazy, but still it sounds hype

Rocking off and on beat, and I do believe I'm right, you're right

Am I wrong? Yes, son

Don't be mad, be glad I missed the plane, I'm staying

With my Brothers Jungle, Soul, and the Tribe I'm saying

Funky, funky rhymes that always stay in swing

I believe we doing our own thing

We're doing our own thang

We're doing our own thang

We're doing our own thang

We're doing our own thang

Well my family sets all the trends

From soul to soul, large to lose ends

And I all my groups like kill?

'Cause that's where the money's at honey

Yeah, the industry's filled with copycats

R n' B mixed with sloppy raps

Tribes like us always open doors

But what for, so you can get yours?

You ain't in to it, all you want is profit

So I ask you please to stop it

Leave me alone, get off my bone

'Cause I'm doing my own

A new seed, a new breed

A new man you to feed the greed

A new pair of boots for a new piece of butt

Sweet daddy are you there? Sammy B is on the cut

Spinning back for a rap that's laid back

Ready to kick back, those get no slack

I may rock a rhyme or I may start to sing

But still, I'm doing my own thang

In comes the mood of Jungle and Daisies

Play the same and let the vibes grace me

All hold hands and let's walk about

And form a circle and talk about

Don't follow the path that we're stepping

Truth to the soul is what I'm cramming

Reasons for this is the family's strong

And like Bob Marley said, "We're jammin'"

Seeing is believing, so see and believe

And let the groove of the new proceed

A whole bunch of love, peace signs, and fun

So let's do what's got to be done, you know?