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