Yo Rock, cue me inWe got that funkMurray's back before you need to knowWe got the funk for your assLet's goA lot of rappers holla tough stuff, they don't live itWhen you hear me emceeing, I'm speaking from experienceKeynote speaker, rock folk freakerThis lecture is conducted from the mic and through the speakerNow, who gets weaker? Not this doneLook, I'm never shook, not even when I was on the runI'm a rebel, I love rebel peopleYou're not equal, you damn creep, youI wake up in the morning with my game face onAnd play hard all day, word is bornBy the way, whatever happened to, word is bornThe brother I lied to me during RamadanI'm taking no prisoners, taking no shortsStill drink, I'll eat cans, parties and courtsFor creativity and original thoughtAnd to twist the fate, I'll twist your face, don't get caughtYo, we got the ghetto funk, you need to know where the funk is atFunk that, punk that, Murray's back with thatFunk to make a person get your heart attackHe's backYo, we got the ghetto funk, you need to know where the funk is atFunk that, punk that, Murray's back with thatFunk to make a person get your heart attackYou need to knowWe got funk for your stink assCome onYo, here's what I'ma doJoke you out till your lips and your face turn blueNow look what you done made me doI did it againAnd the joke's on youI'm more than a fishy, reputable, undisputable, lyrical phraseologistYou know how I doNot one of you or any combination of youCan ever mess aroundBoy, you know how I doDialectical linguistUnlimited thinkerDescriptive mental photographerL-O-D-N-P-P-P gets it allWith strong, bodily harmYou can't callStop, lock and barrelEmptyWe don't wantThis funk hereClogs up, come onI'm not an R&B pop star, rockin' roll upI'm an underground rapper with a chip on my shoulderYou mindless, spineless jellyfish, I eat em' seedsWhich is my favorite dishI sell em' seven seedsPack em' in like sardinesAnd eat fruit off the stress treeKeep kill beef like mad cow diseaseSpazz on me, negroSome say I'm sarcastic with a bad reputationBut ignore em', don't listenThey Mr. Murray hate yaWe ain't got the ghetto funkYou need to know where the funk is atFunk that, punk thatMurray's back with thatFunk to make a person get your heart attackHe's backYo, we ain't got the ghetto funkYou need to know where the funk is atFunk that, punk thatMurray's back with thatFunk to make a person get your heart attackYou need to knowThis is to myNegroes, Spaniards, and CaucasoidsThis chiseled face, hardcore rap b-boyWith my R-Wired tightrope trampolineStopTear your ass upIt's service in a snapI'm the local heroGlobal playerMake your grandmother get up andDo the Murray Rainer*** you, go into a death rowLike aAlligatorGood dog, my squadGot too much flavorRainbow styleLike a pack of Nawa ladiesThis funk * gon' shake the East CraterMy squad, stayTrue to the gameWe the trillersLet's blow the effortsThis son of the graveYo, we ain't got the ghetto funkYou need to know where the funk is atFunk that, punk thatMurray's back with thatFunk to make a person get your heart attackHe's backYo, we ain't got the ghetto funkYou need to know where the funk is atFunk that, punk thatMurray's back with thatFunk to make a person get your heart attackYou need to knowYo, we ain't got the ghetto funkYou need to know where the funk is atFunk that, punk thatMurray's back with thatFunk to make a person get your heart attack