Lyrics:

(Mad brothers know his name)
(Uh, yeah, it's him again)

Lord Finesse got somethin' for your eardrums
Back on the scene, long time, no hear from
It's the funky man, the brother with the same sound
I've been coolin', about a year and some change now
So hand over the microphone 'cause it's my turn
The brother with the fade, half-moon, and long sideburns
Nice, dope and, keep the girls scopin'
I say the funky shit and get all the niggas open
So heed that, don't try to yap and give me feedback
I'll get in that ass, believe that
Can it, I'll steal your show like a bandit
I get papes while you're broke like mass transit
You're not as smooth as this, so what can you do to this?
Brothers need to stop and step with that foolishness
I'm the type, to interrupt a party
I don't need a phone, to reach out and touch somebody
Gimme a mic, it's just as good as one
Leave the party is what you wack MC's should of done
'Cause y'all starvin', I'm livin' extra large and
I'm swingin' shit as if my name was Tarzan
Yeah, 'cause I'm on some old new shit
Got more styles than you see in a Kung Fu flick
Mics I seize, wax opponents off with ease
I'm more deadly than a venereal disease
So think twice, those who think I'mma fall
I'm shinin' more than a tire full of Armor All
It's Lord Finesse and I got shit planned
Hot damn, it's the Return of the Funky Man

(Mad brothers know his name)
(Uh, yeah, it's him again)

Brothers get cash, but I get way more
'Cause in the 90's, I'm gettin' paid for
Rhymin' in the 21st century
When asked, 'Who the funkiest?', you better mention me
I go all out while a lot of crews be frontin'
I know and they know that they can't do me nothin'
'Cause I'm smooth and wise, my skills I utilize
Lyrics all advanced, you'd think my brain was computerized
So who needs a partner or a sidekick?
When it comes to bein' funky, I got all that old fly shit
The rough and rugged, plus the pimp smooth rhyme
I polish opponents off like a shoe shine
They be frontin' like they on the crazy tip
Tryin' to hang but they softer than baby shit
Frontin' like they wild with they bullshit style
I'll put they ass on trial, pull they card and they file
I'm hardcore, but I still keep the scene pumpin'
So all that singin' and dancin', that shit don't mean nothin'
MC's suffer Lord Finesse lately
Some of them hate me, think that they can take me
I'll take on some of 'em, bring a whole ton of 'em
I'll take 'em all on and stomp each and every one of 'em
I just chill, relax and flaunt my cash
You wanna riff? I'll be quit to stomp that ass
And let you know that you can't get with this
Come one, come all and get burnt by the quickness
Greater, creator, drop stupid data
If I ever got served, it'd had to be by a waiter
I lounge in the rest until my song is done
I plan to be straight with papes in the long run
'Cause when it comes to rhymes I give you more than you ask for
Bring a whole task force, I rhyme my fuckin' ass off
I stand in command with the mic in my hand
Awww shit, it's the Return of the Funky Man

(Mad brothers know his name)
(Uh, yeah, it's him again)

Stand back, I'm about to flip here
Got dissed last year, so I'm kickin' ass this year
Brothers were stressin' me, strictly overworkin' me
(They showed you last year) Yeah, that fits perfectly
Cool, 'cause I'm still kinda fed with them
Who gives a fuck, I'm about 20 steps ahead of them
Now I'm established, they feel all embarrassed
'Cause I'm with Warner Brothers and my man Gary Harris
Spread the news, or should I say buzz?
(Finesse is paid!) Thought I wasn't when I was
The last label was confusin' me, jerkin' me, foolin' me
Now that I'm paid, y'all know what y'all can do for me
Since I sound funky, a lot of labels want me
But I'll be damned to be another man's flunky
I can never be a stool pigeon, I'd rather be a full pigeon
Fuck the bullshittin'!
'Cause in the 90's, I got more than a little game
I'm Lord Finesse and funky is my middle name
Plus my title and everyone wants mine
It's the brother with compounds and punchlines
I can still put my foot all in your ass
I'm crazy funky, plus smoother than Teddy Pendergrass
It's the man to put words in a simile
(He's a funky technician) Yeah, y'all remember me
I'm real and actual, the man out taxin' you
I got the rhymes, and Mike got a scratch or two
So ain't no use tryin' to eat us for din-din
Brothers better off tryin' their luck with Win-Ten
To the opposition: I'm the man out burnin' ya
I dust a rapper off like furniture
So take your stand, I foil your plan
Goddamn, it's the Return of the Funky Man

(Mad brothers know his name)
(Uh, yeah, it's him again)