Yep it’s more Philly-funk-from-flicks-that-never-flew time. Those with previous experience of the band will know it’s always 1971 in Big Pimp Jones’ house though that doesn’t stop them trying to prove it. Close your eyes while listening to this and you’ll be whisked into the arms of a couple of dusky beauties clad in little more than skimpy bikinis, who tote sunlight-blocking afros and pump-action shotguns while dudes with names like Shuggy and Bumpy try and shoot your bitch ass because of that crap you pulled last week in Harlem.
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