Soul Flower (feat. The Pharcyde)

What you say, brother?

Yeah, bring the funk

Yeah, haha, alright

Yo, man, we got The Pharcyde

You know, they gon' a little rap, you know

They got a new brand of funk, you know?

So we gonna have a

Bro right here, he's gonna come up

He's gon' do a little rhyme, you know?

You know, come on my count

Yo, one, two, three, four

My mama told me one day that some real good things would happen

If I practice on my dancin' and I practice on my rappin'

But, before she goes to bed at night, my mama would always pray that

Everything would come together, every dog would have it's day

Now able on the cable, stable when I freak the funk

I got more tricks up my sleeve than Freddie's got junk

No need to do no judo or no kicks like karate

'Cause I can get funky like a baby on a bottle

Oh, what the heck

**** just wanna get wrecked to the track

It's brand new and heavy as a Chevy and in fact

The Pharcyde is comin' and I hope we're not wack

But at this point, there's no turnin' back

But to be exact

I've got more flavors than a bucket full of fruit

In ninety-two, we made some cash

In ninety-three, we made the loot

Because the vinyl was delicious, I'm the **** who's ambitious

Michael Ross the genie, he's givin' us three wishes

One, I wanna just jam with yo band

Two, you gotta play it all across the land

Three, the plan is grab the ducats and say fuck it to the critics

Hey now

I was walkin' down the street, bailin' to the beat

Phat beats in head, tennis shoes on my feet

The **** tried to flex, so he had to be smoked

So I shot him in the ass on the downstroke

I shot him in the ass on the downstroke

What?

(Shot him in the ass on the downstroke)

Yeah

(I shot him in the ass on the downstroke)

Shot him in the ass on the downstroke

Shot him in the ass on the downstroke

Shot him in the ass on the downstroke

Shot him in the ass on the downstroke

Souped on the beat like a bowl of chicken noodles

I love Spanish dishes but no, I'm no Menudo

I can dig kung-fu, I flip hoes like judo

Never date a chick who's mom's name is Bruno

Oh Anna, bonanna, bannana-fana-funo

Yeah, you know Shafino, met her in a trio

Souped my glass, jet flew her out to Rio

I'm somewhat Creole, don't like the man of steel

I'm not a carbon copy but the first draft, jalopy

For real, I used to deal but the fuzz popped me

I had the hydro, but they repo'd my crop

And still, I chill like scotch on the rocks

'Cause I just gets paid for the hardcore props

How long can you freak the funk?

How long can you freak the funk?

I separate the good stuff from the junk (Freak the funk)

Yo, how long can you freak the funk?

Come on, yeah (Freak the funk)

It's alright, yo (Freak the funk)

I swear to tell the whole truth and nothin' but the whole truth

Ever since I was a little snot nosed, snaggletooth whippersnapper

I knew to become a rapper with flavor that of chocolate fudge

Here comes the judge and the jury from the fury got me on trial

'Cause I never copy and and I got me own style

A juvenile professional 'cause nobody comes, there's too many shows

And now the police got my fingerprints and profile

Oh, shit

Soul flower

Soul flower

Soul flower

Soul flower

Soul flower

Soul flower

Soul flower

Soul flower

We need it

(Soul flower)

Got to have it

(Soul flower)

You know you want it

(Soul flower)

We got to have it

(Soul flower)

Give it to me

(Soul flower)

Don't you love soul flower?

Yeah

Come on, one, two, three, four, hit it