Paroles For you Bilal

For you

All right, okay
All right, okay
All right, okay
All right, okay
All right
We'll make it funky for you now

[Common]
I'm a child of the ah, the 87 ah
From the streets; get on a beat and go ah
I could break it down like whatever ya ah
On some K-R-S be-here-forever-type, uh
You, you, you, you know you shouldn't rhyme like uh
Let them pussy niggas get in your mind like uh
Baby boy, you could do it; take your time; do it
If you get the chance
To be a man in a B-boy stance and advanced from the go
I'll trace outer space with a uh
The baby-sitter of styles; I've traveled miles with
Bitches and I've traveled miles with
I've traveled miles with bitches and brew the ritual
Of the real uh
You're platinum, but real niggas don't feel you
You sampled real niggas and then filtered
I'm built to last; at last I'm free
The Roots and SV be the family tree
SV and the Roots be the family tree
The Roots and SV and the tree is uh
Come on

Chorus
As long as it's funky
All right, okay, yeah
As long as it's funky
All right
As long as it's funky
All right, okay
As long as it's funky
Funky for you now

I style for the oh, wild for the oh
Baby girl, let's go half on a child for the oh
Lick shot's pop lock and blow for the oh
Like Ra, I'll move a crowd for the oh
You talkin' loud, but ain't sayin' oh
Trickin' paper on a uh, Captain Save-a-oh
I've never been the type of nigga
To take a broad to the courts
As a shorty I was always into sports
Now I talk to drums and walk in slums and thoughts that's oh
Instinct to hustle divided by the struggle
Plus a couple of scuffles and up to high shuffle
Even when it sound muffled
I bust through narrow gates
With king-sized thoughts that's sparrow shaped
Before I came up I had to elevate
Let a nigga move where he want to move up to
You don't like how I'm livin'; well, fuck oh
I stuck to what I was on; a star is born on a cusp
Many angels fell to the dust
Leavin' me to trust, only a oh
Leavin' me to trust y'all, only a oh
Leavin' me to trust in a ah, oh, oh, oh
Ohhh
Yo

[Chorus: x4]
As long as it's funky, yeah
All right, okay

Let your imagination dance to the
Dance to the, dance to the hey
Like nobody's watchin' in a B-boy stance to the hey
I'm funky like Africans in France to the hey
Yo, hey, kick in the bass you
Chasin' paper like a bitch in a race
Spit on or death; I still ain't picked up the ace
The hundred styles I run with thick in the race
So let's oh, yeah, uh huh

[Chorus]