| A wanna be gangster thinkin' he’s a wise guy
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| Rob another bank, he’s a sock 'em in the eye guy
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| Tank head, Mr. Bonnie and Clyde guy
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| Look him the eye, he’s not my kinda guy
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| Never wanna be confusion proof
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| Pudding’s sweet but too aloof
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| Orange eye girl with a backslide dew said
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| Yo homie, who you talkin' to?
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| A backed up paddywagon mackin' on a cat’s ass
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| One uppercut to the cold upper middle class
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| Born to storm on boredom’s face
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| And a little lust to the funky ass Flea bass
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| Most in the race just lose their grace
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| The blackest hole in all of space
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| Crooked as a hooker, now suck my thumb
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| Anybody wanna come get some?
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| (If you have to ask) You’ll never know
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| Funky motherfuckers will not be told to go
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| (If you have to ask) You’ll never know
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| Funky motherfuckers will not be told to go
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| Don’t ask me why I’m flyin' so high
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| Mr. Bubble meets superfly in my third eye
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| Searchin' for a soul-bride, she’s my freakette
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| Soak it up inside, deeper than a secret
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| Much more than meets the eye
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| To the funk, I fall into my new ride
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| My hand, my hand
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| Magic on the one is a medicine man
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| Thinkin' of a few taboos that I ought to kill
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| Dancin' on their face like a stage on Vaudeville
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| I feel so good can’t be understood
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| Booty of a hoodlum rockin' my red hood
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| (If you have to ask) You’ll never know
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| Funky motherfuckers will not be told to go
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| (If you have to ask) You’ll never know
|
| Funky motherfuckers will not be told to go |