TobyMac - Funky Jesus Music Lyrics
Lyrics
Give me that rock
That hip, that rock
Give me that funky
Yo stick it in red
We got the cred
No need to say what's already been said
Don't need to please
When we got the proof
We be on our knees
When we raise the roof
'Cause we got the
"One pot" mix up flavor
We got the funky Jesus blazer
No equal
Diverse people
Come get it now
Won't be a sequel
None of that mumbo jumbo
Give me that hip hop funk soul
Give me that funky Jesus music
Give me that soulful gumbo
Chorus:
Give me that funky, funky
That Funky Jesus Music
Give me that hip, that rock, that funk, that soul
Give me that juicy flow
Give me that funky, funky
That Funky Jesus Music
Give me that hip, that rock, that funk, that soul
And watch this party grow
Let's go
Look at them freaks, they fashion loud
Makin' that hotness, movin' that crowd
Bumpin' that junk with a life injection
Sweet to the ears like the candy section
Is to the eyes
Feel so fly
Passion that just won't subside
We got this winner's ball
So check it out
Gonna watch 'em fall
(Chorus)
From coast to coast
This is the most
We got beats and rhymes
And aftershows
We got funky people on the highs and lows
MC's like Wiggy they call us pros
So, sure shot rockers take stock
of this
I'll play the post in a b-boy bliss
See, we bum rush with no discussion
A red hot show that's freak production
(Chorus)
Video
TobyMac - Funky Jesus Music (Live) ft. Hollyn
Meaning & Inspiration
When you’ve spent your life running, the last thing you expect to hear is a beat you can actually move to. Usually, the stuff they tell you about God sounds like a funeral march—slow, heavy, and aimed at people who never made a mistake in their lives.
TobyMac and Hollyn shouting about "funky Jesus music" shouldn’t work for someone like me. My skin still feels itchy from the places I’ve been and the things I’ve done to survive the night. But when that line hits—“Bumpin' that junk with a life injection”—I stop pacing.
"Life injection." That’s a strange way to put it, right? It sounds desperate. It sounds like a needle in a vein, except this time it’s not to kill the pain or forget who I am. It’s to wake me up. I’ve known plenty of injections that were meant to numb, to help me drift off until the morning light stopped hurting my eyes. But this? This is the opposite. It’s the jolt of being brought back to life when you were already half-buried in the dirt of your own making. It reminds me of Ezekiel 37, that wild vision of dry bones shaking, clattering together, and finding skin and breath again. It wasn’t a gentle conversation. It was a chaotic, noisy, supernatural event.
I’m still shaking the dust off. I’m still figuring out why the Father even bothered looking down the road for me, let alone opening the gates. But the lyrics say, “We got funky people on the highs and lows.” That hits harder than any choir arrangement. It doesn’t ask me to pretend I’m polished. It doesn’t ask me to hide the fact that I’ve spent time in the highs—where everything feels like it’s burning up—and the lows—where you’re just waiting for the silence to swallow you whole.
It’s messy. It’s "gumbo." Everything mixed together—the grease, the salt, the heat, the leftovers. That’s what my faith looks like right now. It’s not a tidy, leather-bound book on a nightstand. It’s a loud, unrefined, desperate grab for something that actually breathes.
Maybe that’s the point. Maybe the "party" isn't for the people who never left the house. Maybe it’s for the ones who crawled home smelling like the pig pen, trying to wash the scent off, only to find that the music is already playing and the door is wide open. It’s loud. It’s rhythmic. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not just listening to the beat—I’m actually letting it dictate my next step. I don’t know if I’m "fixed," but I know I’m breathing. And honestly? That’s more than I thought I deserved.