(feat. Rappin 4-Tay)



Come on, come on, come on with the funk thang

Come on, come on, come on with the funk thang

Come on, come on, come on with the funk thang

Come on, come on, come on with the funk thang



Urban Rapsody (Yeah)

Just the sound (Just the sound)

Sound of the ghetto



Even if you came through the party with some ass

Dont need no cash with the VIP pass

In your pocket or your purse, be my first verse

Raps an addiction such as Pulp Fiction

I represent the west, the number one, we be the best

No walking with no limping, no, I dont do no simpin

Sticking to my player script suckas keep trippin slippin

Spread a lot of game, thats what the people want me



With the?

That you act that player hatin copycat

Same little trip, you talk down on a player track

If you wonder how I got the boss game

Smokin on Mary Jane, listenin to Rick James

Uh, bring the funk (Bring the funk)



Urban Rapsody (Yeah)

Just the sound (Just the sound)

Sound of the ghetto (What you say)



Urban Rapsody (Yeah)

Yeah, just the sound



Eenie meenie miny moe, no matter what hood

That you come from, you get out if you just could

Pimps, players and pushers on the corner block

You should see all the money that you can clock

In the ghetto, you can hear a rapsody

And the melody is written just for you and me

Call it folk, call it rhythm and blues

It aint nothin but a feelin that we choose



Urban Rapsody (Yeah)

Just the sound (Just the sound)

Sound of the ghetto (What you say)



Urban Rapsody (Yeah)

Yeah, just the sound (Just the sound)

Sound of the ghetto (Bring it 4-Tay)



Aint no funk like funk this way in the Bay

Where all the real players parlay

Stone City Band, 4-Tay and Rick James

Late night, clubbin, game recognizin game

Toast the ass not the glass and we outie

All day, every day, players keep it cloudy

Mocha Almond, caramel, chocolate

One you got em started, man, it really aint no stoppin

Pimps, players, pushers, aint nothin like the ghetto

The partys on again, holler at a player, dough

Just like mafioso, so just bring a toast

Boss Hogs, shot callers and Im the force

Passports for a scrapper it goes nation wide

And about that root of all evil it might just cost your life

Bring on the funk, Rick, we got the party pack

With all these freaks and hoes, man, I gots to mack



I cant stay 4-Tay

I got to go check out that West Coast thang