James Rick Urban Rapsody Lyrics

Urban Rapsody Lyrics

Rick James featuring 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