All right, okay All right, okay All right, okay All right, okay All right We'll make it funky for you now [Common] I'm a child of the ah, the 87 ah From the streets; get on a beat and go ah I could break it down like whatever ya ah On some K-R-S be-here-forever-type, uh You, you, you, you know you shouldn't rhyme like uh Let them pussy niggas get in your mind like uh Baby boy, you could do it; take your time; do it If you get the chance To be a man in a B-boy stance and advanced from the go I'll trace outer space with a uh The baby-sitter of styles; I've traveled miles with Bitches and I've traveled miles with I've traveled miles with bitches and brew the ritual Of the real uh You're platinum, but real niggas don't feel you You sampled real niggas and then filtered I'm built to last; at last I'm free The Roots and SV be the family tree SV and the Roots be the family tree The Roots and SV and the tree is uh Come on Chorus As long as it's funky All right, okay, yeah As long as it's funky All right As long as it's funky All right, okay As long as it's funky Funky for you now I style for the oh, wild for the oh Baby girl, let's go half on a child for the oh Lick shot's pop lock and blow for the oh Like Ra, I'll move a crowd for the oh You talkin' loud, but ain't sayin' oh Trickin' paper on a uh, Captain Save-a-oh I've never been the type of nigga To take a broad to the courts As a shorty I was always into sports Now I talk to drums and walk in slums and thoughts that's oh Instinct to hustle divided by the struggle Plus a couple of scuffles and up to high shuffle Even when it sound muffled I bust through narrow gates With king-sized thoughts that's sparrow shaped Before I came up I had to elevate Let a nigga move where he want to move up to You don't like how I'm livin'; well, fuck oh I stuck to what I was on; a star is born on a cusp Many angels fell to the dust Leavin' me to trust, only a oh Leavin' me to trust y'all, only a oh Leavin' me to trust in a ah, oh, oh, oh Ohhh Yo [Chorus: x4] As long as it's funky, yeah All right, okay Let your imagination dance to the Dance to the, dance to the hey Like nobody's watchin' in a B-boy stance to the hey I'm funky like Africans in France to the hey Yo, hey, kick in the bass you Chasin' paper like a bitch in a race Spit on or death; I still ain't picked up the ace The hundred styles I run with thick in the race So let's oh, yeah, uh huh [Chorus]