God Made Me Funky Lyrics
| Song | God Made Me Funky |
| Artist | Def Jef |
| Album | Just A Poet With Soul |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 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) |
| 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 brandnew 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 | |
| Hmhm, 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 |
| 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 brandnew 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 | |
| Hmhm, 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 |
Similar Songs
YouTube Results (More on YouTube)