(feat. Rappin 4-Tay) Come on, come on, come on with the funk thang Come on, come on, come on with the funk thang Come on, come on, come on with the funk thang Come on, come on, come on with the funk thang Urban Rapsody (Yeah) Just the sound (Just the sound) Sound of the ghetto Even if you came through the party with some ass Dont need no cash with the VIP pass In your pocket or your purse, be my first verse Raps an addiction such as Pulp Fiction I represent the west, the number one, we be the best No walking with no limping, no, I dont do no simpin Sticking to my player script suckas keep trippin slippin Spread a lot of game, thats what the people want me With the? That you act that player hatin copycat Same little trip, you talk down on a player track If you wonder how I got the boss game Smokin on Mary Jane, listenin to Rick James Uh, bring the funk (Bring the funk) Urban Rapsody (Yeah) Just the sound (Just the sound) Sound of the ghetto (What you say) Urban Rapsody (Yeah) Yeah, just the sound Eenie meenie miny moe, no matter what hood That you come from, you get out if you just could Pimps, players and pushers on the corner block You should see all the money that you can clock In the ghetto, you can hear a rapsody And the melody is written just for you and me Call it folk, call it rhythm and blues It aint nothin but a feelin that we choose Urban Rapsody (Yeah) Just the sound (Just the sound) Sound of the ghetto (What you say) Urban Rapsody (Yeah) Yeah, just the sound (Just the sound) Sound of the ghetto (Bring it 4-Tay) Aint no funk like funk this way in the Bay Where all the real players parlay Stone City Band, 4-Tay and Rick James Late night, clubbin, game recognizin game Toast the ass not the glass and we outie All day, every day, players keep it cloudy Mocha Almond, caramel, chocolate One you got em started, man, it really aint no stoppin Pimps, players, pushers, aint nothin like the ghetto The partys on again, holler at a player, dough Just like mafioso, so just bring a toast Boss Hogs, shot callers and Im the force Passports for a scrapper it goes nation wide And about that root of all evil it might just cost your life Bring on the funk, Rick, we got the party pack With all these freaks and hoes, man, I gots to mack I cant stay 4-Tay I got to go check out that West Coast thang
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