Calls me by the gas, we're about to,
you got this motherfuckin' funk in, man.
Say, you got this funk in, man.
Yeah, man, we got this funk in, man.
Man, I said, you's a hell of a slack, man.
I said, yeah, man, we got this funk in, man.
Huh.
Cool air rolling down the street,
sneakers tapping to the beat.
Who said hills can't bring the heat?
Watch the whole town move his feet.
Coffee shops by day, sure.
But tonight we want some more.
Trade that latte for a groove, let the mountain city move.
From the valley to the sky, feel that rhythm climbing high.
Frog and funk together blend, this is how the weekend ends.
Mountain city gets funky.
Not slow, not sleepy, bass bouncing off the trees.
Sax riding on the breeze.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, loosen up, feel your dancing cup.
Old school soul attack, and there's no turning back.
Hey.
Motorbikes parked outside, inside we let it slide.
Wah-wah crying sharp and sweet, drums knocking out your heartbeat.
Friends and strangers side by side, no cool face left to hide.
When the groove is this tight, everybody's shining bright.
This ain't background music, no, this is let your body go.
If you feel it in your chest, you already know where it is.
Mountain city gets funky.
A little wild, a little chunky, slap bass talking smack.
Guitar cutting back, the la, la, la, la, la, la.
Don't pretend you've been waiting for this blend.
Old school come back, put the heel down on the mat.
How about the traffic light?
Stars watching Friday night.
If the fog begins to roll, it just adds to the soul.
Mountain city gets funky.
Yeah.
Loud, proud, it's funky.
From the first drum crack to the final horn attack.
When they ask what shook the hill, you'll say funky.
Yeah.
Calls me by the gas, we're about to,
you got this motherfuckin' funk in, man.
Say, you got this funk in, man.
Yeah, man, we got this funk in, man.
Man, I said, you's a hell of a slack, man.
I said, yeah, man, we got this funk in, man.
Huh.
Cool air rolling down the street,
sneakers tapping to the beat.
Who said hills can't bring the heat?
Watch the whole town move his feet.
Coffee shops by day, sure.
But tonight we want some more.
Trade that latte for a groove, let the mountain city move.
From the valley to the sky, feel that rhythm climbing high.
Frog and funk together blend, this is how the weekend ends.
Mountain city gets funky.
Not slow, not sleepy, bass bouncing off the trees.
Sax riding on the breeze.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
La, la, loosen up, feel your dancing cup.
Old school soul attack, and there's no turning back.
Hey.
Motorbikes parked outside, inside we let it slide.
Wah-wah crying sharp and sweet, drums knocking out your heartbeat.
Friends and strangers side by side, no cool face left to hide.
When the groove is this tight, everybody's shining bright.
This ain't background music, no, this is let your body go.
If you feel it in your chest, you already know where it is.
Mountain city gets funky.
A little wild, a little chunky, slap bass talking smack.
Guitar cutting back, the la, la, la, la, la, la.
Don't pretend you've been waiting for this blend.
Old school come back, put the heel down on the mat.
How about the traffic light?
Stars watching Friday night.
If the fog begins to roll, it just adds to the soul.
Mountain city gets funky.
Yeah.
Loud, proud, it's funky.
From the first drum crack to the final horn attack.
When they ask what shook the hill, you'll say funky.
Yeah.