Lyrics:

A wanna be gangster thinkin' he's a wise guy
Rob another bank, he's a sock 'em in the eye guy
Tank head, Mr. Bonnie and Clyde guy
Look him in the eye, he's not my kinda guy
Never wanna be confusion proof, oh
Pudding's sweet but too aloof, oh
Orange eye girl with black slide Dew said
Yo! Homie who you talkin' to a backed up paddy wagon macking on a cat's ass
One uppercut to the cold upper middle class
Born to storm on boredom's face
And a little lust to the funky ass Flea bass
Most in the race just lose their grace
The blackest hole in all of space
Crooked as a hooker now suck my thumb
Anybody wanna come get some
If you have to ask
You'll never know
Funky motherfuckers will not be told to go

If you have to ask
You'll never know
Funky motherfucker will not be told to go (oh, whoa, whoa)

Don't ask me why I'm flying so high
Mr. Bubble meets superfly in my third eye
Searchin' for a soul bride, she's my freakette
Soak it up inside deeper than a secret
Much more than meets the eye
To the funk I fall into my new ride
My hand, my hand
Magic on the one is a medicine man
Thinkin' of a few taboos that I ought to kill
Dancin' on their face like a stage on Vaudeville
I feel so good can't be understood
Booty of a hoodlum rockin' my red hood
If you have to ask
You'll never know
Funky motherfucker will not be told to go
If you have to ask
You'll never know
Funky motherfucker will not be told to go (oh whoa, whoa)