God Made Me Funky

One time for your mind (Hey everybody) [VERSE 1] You know it's gots to be funky if I'ma rhyme to it Pick up where the others left off, and I do it With so much soul, and so much self control I'm a smooth operator puttin rappers on hold Flowin like a stream, the rhyme scheme seems to gleam Like a flashlight beam, but it's no dream It's a real type thing. and it's happenin Caused by applause, and I'm forced to get rappin I'm rearrangin the lines, so I can change with the times Cockin rhymes like nines and blowin minds I glow and shine like a beacon when I'm speakin Skin is light, but I'm not white or Puertorican I'm an African descendant, very independent I make my own money§ so don't worry how I spend it Rappers follow me, but I don't need another shadow Hollow MC's, don't even think about a battle Cause if you got the mic, and you ain't rockin it right I'll grab it, and drop the rhyme like a bad habit Hey, I wouldn't have it any other way So believe a brother when I say God made me funky [VERSE 2] Now the way I kick a lyric you would think I play soccer Rhyme stays proper, get ill, I be a doctor Operate, like a well trained surgeon Take the competition, bust em out like virgins They get strung out, high dry, and hung out Without a word like a cat took their tongue out Their rhymes were frail, pale, weak, and stale But I'm deliverin a brand-new style like a mail Man, rain and hail, and sleet or snow No need to worry, cause I'm guaranteed to show Up, right on time with the rhyme to entertain ya On the microphone, and leave like the lone ranger 'Who was that stranger?' Shoulders be shruggin Everybody's buggin Rhymes are funky dope and keep the crowd want more Like a junkie hopin to make that score I'm a true soul brother, cause that's the way to be And only true soul brothers can dance for me Hey, I wouldn't have it any other way So believe a brother when I say God made me funky [VERSE 3] You hear the rhymes on the radio, in the a.m On the am, then in the p.m., on the fm Def Jef, and my rhymes'll stick witcha Verses say a thousand words, just like a picture And since I'm an artist, and my pen's a paintbrush When they admire and inquire, I say, "It ain't much" Rhymes flow natural like a second nature And if you wanna get on the mic, you gotta await your Turn, learn the fundamentals Grab some instrumentals Practice makes perfect, so rehearsing can pay off But for now lay off the mic And let a real pro show you how it's supposed to go But hold up, let me hang my coat up Let me clear my throat up Hm-hm, now turn my mic up Step right up, hurry, hurry, don't miss this Watch me light up the mic like a Christmas Tree, see, I mean business, I ain't effin around Put the needle on the record by Jef, and you found A new sound and you like the way the name sound Plus it ain't the same sound, cause it ain't James Brown No corny lyrics, I don't rhyme like that But when you think about comin correct - I'm like that I wouldn't have it any other way So believe a brother when I say God made me funky (Got to be) (so funky) (Got to be) (Get down to the funky beat)