| God gave me a gift, to put people at ease
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| What I do is, what I do
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| If I was to sit down and try to tell you, break it down, you know technically,
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| I couldn’t
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| Because I don’t know, and that’s the God’s honest truth
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| What I do, is what I do, I hear a beat, I feel it, I write it, I say it
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| Check it
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk
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| Kick it
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| Hear me out, I got thump in my trunk
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| That’s all I really need and a bag of blue funk
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| Although I may be high profile, I keep a low pro style
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| Stay calmly, but my homies kinda wild
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| Mostly on the down low, now and then I hit a disco
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| Sport suits, drink milk, never Cisco
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| I read the funnies, watch Bugs Bunny cartoons
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| And at my crib I dig Bob Marley-ah tunes
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| I take a spin in my Lexus coupe, sportin' sexy suits
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| Sippin' sick, I sip chicken soup
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| I rip stages like a maniac, lyrics like a maniac
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| And shows get torn no matter where we at
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| A little bit more than better, I warm it up like a sweater
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| A money generator, fly honey dip getter
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| Like I said before, thump in my trunk
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| That’s all I really need and a bag of blue funk
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk (blue funk)
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk (blue funk)
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk (blue funk)
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| Here comes the kid, can you dig, I got the flavor
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| If you don’t believe me, just check with your neighbor
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| I get 'nough respect, from the roughest roughneck
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| And I’m wicked and unruly when it comes to a mic check
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| Drive a Jeep, catch beeps on the norm
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| Never say much when I riff 'cause I’m a quiet storm
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| Most of the time I’m coolin' in my crib, watchin' cable
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| And I got crazy honeys, far from dummies in my stable
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| I’m well known in my hood, like a gangsta
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| When the time is right, I’d like to have a little Heav-ster
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| I bust riffs, that’ll incite the dead
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| And beats that make you stagger like the neighborhood wine-head
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| I warm it up like a heater, or a funky, funky drummer beater
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| Brown sugar is sweeter; |
| beats by Peter
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| Like I said before, thump in my trunk
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| That’s all I really need and a bag of blue funk
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk (blue funk)
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk (blue funk)
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk (blue funk)
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| In the morning time I wake up with the sun, that’s how I get up
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| When I walk the streets alone, when I’m far from home, I keep my head up
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| Don’t swing with many strangers, 'cause to me that’s just a setup
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| If you’re pushin' up too close, I might be ghost and you’ll get wet up
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| Not into showin' off, because I’m not the show off type
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| I’d rather take my time, writin' rhymes and blowin' up mics
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| Kill, just max, make loot pay tax
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| On the ladies blow kisses, on the gents, tip hats
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| I like to swing with girls, 'cause to me it’s a ton of laughs
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| But after the gig is past, we on to take bubble baths
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| I was raised well, but now I raise hell
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| It’s hard to make a livin' so now I’m livin' swell
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| I never have a problem in the streets I’m too smooth for that
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| I never talk or walk with a gun, but run my crew with straps
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| Like I said before, thump in my trunk
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| That’s all I really need and a bag of blue funk
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk (blue funk)
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk (blue funk)
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk (blue funk)
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| La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
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| A bag of blue funk (blue funk)
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| Nuff respect, to all the funk brothers, y’all know who you are
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| Yeah, ya hear me man, big up all y’all
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| Brooklyn, Bronx, Queens, Manhattan, Mount Vernon, Uptown
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| Yeah |