Uptown funk you up, we say uptown funk you up—

silk threads on my back, gold鏈接in my Cup,

Deadstock kicks kick harder than karma,

Haters turn ghosts when the groove get warmer.

Harlem to the moon, Jupiter in the trunk,

Saturn on my wrist, drip slappin’ like a dunk.

Don’t believe me? Just watch—watch the cosmos pop,

We rocket in the pocket, never land, never stop.

Uptown funk you up, we say uptown funk you up,

Drippin’ that gold satin swagger, shoes cut the moon in half,

H-town to Harlem—every curb’s a catwalk,

Bruno got the perm poppin’, Ronson’s groove talk,

Bass so thick it shimmy-shakes your backbone,

Ride the clap like a Cadillac chrome,

Mic in my hand, ice in my pinky,

Whole room blinkin’, everybody funky,

To the right, to the left—dip, spin, show your crest,

We don’t chase the vibe, baby, we manifest.