My mama told me one day
That some real good things would happen
If I practice all my dancin' and I practice all my rappin'
Well before she goes to bed at night
My mama would always say that everything would come together
Every dog would have his day,
Now able on cables table when I freak the funk
I got more tricks up my sleeve than Freddie's got junk
No need to do no Judo or no kicks like Karate
'Cause I can get funky like a baby on a bottle

Oh what the heck
Niggas just wanna get wrecked to the track
It's brand new and heavy as a Chevy and in fact
The Pharcyde is coming and I hope we're not wack
But at this point there's no turning back
But to be exact, I've got more flavors than a bucket full of fruit
In 92 we make some cash and in 93 we make the loot
Because the vinyl is delicious
I'm the nigga who's ambitious
Michael Ross is the genie he's giving our wishes
One, I wanna just jam with your band
Two, you gotta play it all across the land
Three, the plan is grab the ducats and say fuck it to the critics
Hey now
I was walkin' down the street balin' to the beat
Phat beats in my head tennis shoes on my feet
Nigga tried to flex but he had to be smoked
So I shot him in the ass on the downstroke
I shot in the ass on the downstroke (What!)

Shot him in the ass on the downstroke
Yeah (I shot him in the ass on the downstroke)
Shot him in the ass on the downstroke
Shot him in the ass on the downstroke
Shot him in the ass on the downstroke
Shot him in the ass on the downstroke

Souped on the beat like a bowl of chicken noodles
I love Spanish dishes but no I'm not Menudo
I can dig Kung-Fu I flip hoes like Judo
Never date a chick who has a mom named Bruno
A anna bonanna bananafanafuno
Yet you know Shafino
Met her in a trio
Souped up my glass jet flew her ass to Rio
I'm somewhat Creole
Don't like the man of steel
I'm not your carbon copy but your first rap jalopy, for real
I used to deal but the fuzz popped me
I had the hydros but they repo'd my crops and steel
I chills like scotch on the rocks
Cause I just gets paid for them hard-core props
You know?

How long can you freak the funk?
How long can you freak the funk? (Freak the funk)
I separate the good stuff from the junk (freak the funk)
Yo, How long can you freak the funk (freak the funk)
(Freak the funk)
It's all right
(Freak the funk)

I swear to tell the whole truth and nothin' but the whole truth
Ever since I was a little snot nosed, snaggletooth
Whippersnapper, I knew to become a rapper
With flavor that of chocolate fudge
Here comes the judge and jury from the fury got me on trial (trial)
Because I never copy and I got me own style (style)
A juvenille professional
Cuthroat when it comes to stepping on toes
Now the police got my fingerprints and profile

Copyright: CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Songtrust Ave, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Andrew Levy, Derrick Lemel Stewart, Emandu Wilcox, Jan Kincaid, Romye Robinson, Simon Bartholomew, Tre Hardson