Soul Flower (feat. The Pharcyde)

Yo, one, two, three, four My mama told me one day That some real good things would happen If I practice all my dancin' and I practice all my rappin' Well before she goes to bed at night My mama would always say that everything would come together Every dog would have his day Now able on cables table 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 Niggas just wanna get wrecked to the track It's brand new and heavy as a Chevy and in fact The Pharcyde is coming and I hope we're not wack But at this point there's no turning back But to be exact, I've got more flavors than a bucket full of fruit In '92 we make some cash, and in '93 we make the loot Because the vinyl is delicious I'm the nigga who's ambitious Michael Ross is the genie, he's giving our wishes One, I wanna just jam with your 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 balin' to the beat Phat beats in my head, tennis shoes on my feet Nigga tried to flex so he had to be smoked So I shot him in the ass on the downstroke I shot 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 not Menudo I can dig Kung-Fu, I flip hoes like Judo Never date a chick whose mom's name is Bruno A anna bonanna bananafanafuno Yet you know Shafino Met her in a trio Souped up my glass jet, flew her ass to Rio I'm somewhat Creole Don't like the man of steel I'm not your carbon copy but your first rap jalopy, for real I used to deal but the fuzz popped me I had the hydros but they repo'd my crops and steel I chills like scotch on the rocks 'Cause I just gets paid for them hard-core props You know? How long can you freak the funk? How long can you freak the funk? (Freak the funk) I separate the good stuff from the junk (freak the funk) Yo, How long can you freak the funk (freak the funk) (Freak the funk) It's all right (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 jury from the fury got me on trial (trial) Because I never copy and I got me own style (style) A juvenille professional Cuthroat when it comes to stepping on toes You know the Popo got my fingerprints and profile Soul flower, soul flower Soul flower, soul flower Soul flower, soul flower Soul flower, soul flower You need it (soul flower) You got to have it (soul flower) You want it (soul flower) You got to have it (soul flower) Give it to me (soul flower) You got your light, soul flower C'mon, one, two, three, four, hit it