Want to make love, I want you to know
November child, I'm a Scorpio
Tall like tree, black like crow
I talk more talk than the radio
Mama told daddy 'fore I was born
Got a boy, a child comin', gon' be a son of a gun
It's gonna be funky
What they don't understand, every man got to do his own thing
And anything I do, got to be funky
Daddy don't like the song I sing
He said, "Son, your song a little too funky"
Mama don't like the way I wear my hair
She tell me every day, "Son, it looks too funky"
What she don't understand, every man got to do his own thing
And anything I do, got to be funky
Ain't it funky now?
Oh Lord, ain't it good to you?
Some people don't like what I smoke
They say, "What I smoke smells too funky"
I'm just a man doin' my thing
Doin' whatever I feel
Knowin' where I'm goin', likin' what I'm doin'
I got my own life to live
What they don't understand, really man, got to do his own thing
And anything I do
Anything I do
Anything that I do
I love
Got to be funky
Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah
Hold on
Got to be funky
Ooh, Lord, Lord have mercy, oh Lord
Comments (0)