[Hook:]
We got the (funk) for your trunk, we got the shit that you need
The Funk-/-oars (WE CERTIFIED!!!)
We got the (funk) for your trunk, we got the shit that you need
The Funk-/-oars

[Verse 1: Hons]
You think you're the shit man? We battle rats about ego
This man blow his own whore like Rip Cam
Get off the stage before you get your rep tarnished
And your dream's shut down by the certified marksman
The funkoars. Yes, the name that ring balls
I bring war to this rap world like H.G. Wells
The kids these days, they dropping albums pre-mature
Ain't last a hot minute like they stuck anymore, so
Hons one still dissing your crew
You take an honour cheat like Peter Moss finishing moo
So I guess that I'm finished with you
In the booth I spit a hot 16 like it was idiot proof
I'm mad hungry, industry ain't give me a bite
I starve the artist, want to eat, he has to swallow his pride
Fuck that, I'm a funkoar for life
You can find me at the bar then at Jack's 'til I'm rotten inside

[Hook:]
We got the (funk) for your trunk, we got the shit that you need
The Funk-funk-/oars (WE CERTIFIED!!!)
We got the (funk) for your trunk, we got the shit that you need
The Funk-funk-/oars (WE CERTIFIED!!!)
The (funk) for your trunk, we got the shit that you need
The Funk-funk-/oars (WE CERTIFIED!!!)
The (funk) for your trunk, we got the shit that you need
We got the (funk) for your trunk, we got the rhyme