Lyrics Rasta Funky Style - E-40

Rasta Funky Style

How would you describe your type of singing?
It doesn’t fit into any category that I’ve ever seen before
It’s not folk singing, it’s not rock n roll, it’s not progressive jazz,
it’s not swinging
What is it?
Rom pompom goes the whompers to the cranium
Bustin out churri drums in an uncontrollable outburst, hear me out now!
One time pull me over cause they see me come past d yard, slammin so hard!
Me ready now!
Rasta funky style (x7)
A rasta funky style
Rasta funky style (x7)
Me rasta funky style
Come right along, come right along, come right along wit me
Spitting up on d mic is Mr flamboyant E-40!
I likin when ma style is jaffing very sporty
Strugglin strife all my life to make a little bit a money
Give someone an inch and watch me take a 2
Can’t be nice to people, take advantage of you
Smile up in yo face and wanna get down with yo crew
I felt like I can see right through some people, no can do
People believin that the fat means greasy
Until they get locked up an get shagged into d booty
That’s when you start notice that the life is not a cartoon
This won’t happen to you, if you’re listenin to this tune
I’m labelled to most, one a d most dopest rappers in history
Inherited the gift of spit from the genes up in ma family
Pork chop I eat (yes), but liver I will not (nah)
When mommy’s cooking stew I put ma finger in d pot
She slaps me on the hand and say ‘young boy have you gone mad?
If you don’t like how I raised you then go live wit your dad'
I become quite upset, angry enough to war!
Start stompin all across the floor then I slammed ma room door!
An act of disobedience which is the wrong ingredients
All it takes is jus one tiniest form a insight from a genius
To put it in perspective, video jukebox you selected
Campaign around this town, with this beat and get elected
Hussler on the doe, hitting hard like ridd
Some of our raps are fast, some of our raps are slow
V town, California, where I born raised and grow
My favourite animated TV show, Tennessee Tuxedo
Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, me no smoke cocaine
Too hard on my brain, might drive me insane
Lyrical king, the lyrical king, E-40 the lyrical king (x2)
E-40 wanna slowin it up, tippin ma cup
To make a toast (boop, boop, boop) for 90 dos
Or what I say
Peace goes out to d CLICK drivin on me insane
With that premeditated game, a yea
Now pass d drink to d left and side text us
Now pass d 40 to d right and side drink us
Now pass d denk to d left and side denk us
Now pass d 40 to d left and slide drink us
Follow me now!
Put it in and get stupida, (a say a), drink it up until yo ocha
If the munchies didn’t go, write some riddles add some symbols
Make up symbols, can’t resist em
Now everybody sing da lingo
Why don’t you like drop d lyrics wit d greatest effies
How come you can’t spit the lyrics from the hillside posse
No good times could d one times make our country not free
I thought this was the land of the opportunity