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Hey! Mister JB, give me the funky thing again
Funky, funky, funky
Hey! Mister JB, give me the funky thing again
Mister dynamite, godfather of soul music
Where did your sex machine go?
You know, I feel good, when you dance, sing and move
It's very big, aint' that groove?
It was less fun in New Orleans
You in prison, it's heartbreaking
Hey! Mister JB, give me the funky thing again
Funky, funky, funky
Hey! Mister JB, give me the funky thing again
You were a boxer, for the whites you were a shoe shiner
But for blacks the soul brother
You are the god of rappers, these pale imitators
Who don't measure up to you
I shout: please, please, please, come back and sound your brass
And I'll be able to say "I got feelin"
Hey! Mister JB, give me the funky thing again
Funky, funky, funky
Hey! Mister JB, give me the funky thing again
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