Funkstörung (pronounced "foonk-shteuroong"): German for aural interference,… Read Full Bio ↴Funkstörung (pronounced "foonk-shteuroong"): German for aural interference, also a play on words
"funk" = radio "störung" = distortion. Distorted funk indeed.

Rosenheim, Germany's production duo Michael Fakesch and Chris De Luca have an unforgettably unique and recognizable sound. First found on a compilation of their remixes entitled Additional Productions (1999), then on their Appetite for Disctruction (April 2000) full-length debut, Funkstörung's unrivaled vocal-splicing, groove-shredding, taste-proliferating style is equally strong on Vice Versa - their second compilation of remixes to date.

Dosing each of their remixes with an injection of electronic noise, digital soul, and cinematic ambience, Funkstörung are purveyors of futuristic form. Boasting original tracks by A Guy Called Gerald, Jean Michel Jarre, Nils Patter Molvaer, and other internationally known producers, Vice Versa is a hip-hop inflected blend of jazz, electro, and drum'n'bass, brought full-circle by Funkstörung's masterful studio wizardry.

Rare production talents make Funkstörung one of dance music's most in-demand remix outfits out there. Having contributed remixes for artists like Björk, Wu-Tang Clan, and the East Flatbush Project, Funkstörung has always defied musical boundaries by crossing and blending genres to create something entirely their own. On Vice Versa, Fakesch and De Luca seduce their listeners into a near-catatonic, alluringly-hypnotic pleasure state - truly a Funkstörung trademark.

Funkstörung recently announced that they had seperated as a group on their newly-designed website although this can only be good news to fans as both Chris De Luca and Michael Fakesch are now persuing solo careers.

Reunited
Funkstörung Lyrics

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It's Wu motherfuckers, ah Wu-Tang motherfuckers

Reunited, double LP, world excited
Struck a match to the underground, industry ignited
From metaphorical parables to fertilize the Earth
Wicked niggas come, try to burglarize the turf
Scattin' off soft-ass beats them niggas rap happily
Tragically, that style, deter-iate, rapidly

Uncompleted missions, throwin' your best known compositions
You couldn't add it up, if you mastered addition
Where I come from, gettin' visual is habitual
De-mon-strate walkin' on hot coal, in rituals
I splash the paint on the wall, it formed the mural
He took a look, saw the manifestation of it, was plural
Rhymin' while impaired, dart hit your garment
Pierced your internal, streamlined compartments
Just consider the unparallel advantage
Of a natural disaster that's impossible to manage

Bitch ass niggaz counterfeit the funk
I smoke the feet of the skunk, tree top of the trunk
Moonshine drunken monk, Ya head, get shrunk
The touch of skunk, I be fuckin' bitches by the chunk
My name black, do words wanna play in my dirt?
Bitch stop my momma serve, free lunch from the church
I come like a thousand doves
Bitch you quiet at the bus, makin' the fuss, I gots tough love
Unglove the news, watch a nigga transfuse
Dirty add to the fuse, heavy at the booze
I don't walk, I get carried
Gold and platinum frisbee's on my wall, lookin' properly
But come-ly, I U.F.O. you Wright Brothers
The Indian that sold Manhattan to the white man
My grandfather, step up and get knocked right the fuck out
Come to the cook-out, Dirty bitch at the mouth
You scared? Run around like a plane about to crash

Wu-Tang motherfuckers
Wu-Tang motherfuckers
Yeah, and RZA

Yo, yo, The Riddler, funny bone tickler, freak Caligula
Bigger dick sex enigma pistol fertilize your stigma
Stink box, order from pink dot
MC's get stuck on ink blots as I plug to the sink box
Wu-Tang Incorp. take your brain on spacewalk
Talk strange like B-jork, great hero Jim Thorpe
How can I put it? Life is like video footage
Hard to edit, directors, that never understood it
I'm too impulsive, my deadly corrosive dosage
Attack when you least notice through explosive postage
I don't play, the rap souflee saute for the day
Ruler Zig-Zag-Zig A, Leg Leg Arm Head
Spread like plague, we drink Hennessee by the jig
I got the golden egg plus the goose
Eighty proof, Absolut, mixed with cranberry fruit juice
Ginseng boost, I got yo' neck in a noose
Keep my money wrinkled, the rap star twinkle killer instinct
Sixteen bar nickle sell more copies than Kinko
Grow like a fetus with no hands and feet to complete us
And we return like Jesus, when the whole world need us

Is it appetite for destruction
Slap a murder rap on this production, I touch somethin' trust nothin'
Iron Lung, Twisted Metal
I see em duckin' my dart gun, bustin', from every angle
Worldwide total carnage, the sickest flow
That be code named Agent Orange, killin' you slow
It's only right you pay homage
To those that's bout to blow like that shit up your nose, solid
As a rock when I strike target, verbal
Be screamin' on you like a drill sergeant, her-bals
Got me where I wanna be right now, don't know the time
Check the hour on your sundial, watch me shine
Drunk off of cheap wine
Each line be on point when I speak mine
On behalf of my crew, Su, enter the Wu
Thirty-Six more deadly Chambers, to take you through

It's Wu motherfuckers, Wu-Tang motherfuckers

Yeah, Wu-Tang
Wu-Tang

Oh yeah, ah, hey yeah yeah ai
And RZA

Overall Meaning

The lyrics of Funkstörung's "Reunited" track are a celebration of the Wu-Tang Clan's success and influence. The first part of the song talks about the Wu-Tang's comeback, which is embodied in the "Reunited" title, and how the group's impact on the industry stems from their metaphorical parables that fertilize the Earth. The Wu-Tang Clan is shown as a force to be reckoned with, a natural disaster that is impossible to manage, and their natural charisma and poetic flow are considered their unparallel advantage. In contrast, other artists are depicted as trying to counterfeit the funk, and their soft-ass beats are no match for Wu-Tang's rapid-fire flow.

The second part of the song dives deeper into the Wu-Tang Clan's personality and lyrical prowess. The lyrics are more whimsical here, and the imagery is presented as both amusing and intimidating. The singer raps about smoking the feet of the skunk and getting drunk on moonshine while still maintaining a quick-witted repartee. While the lyrics might be humorous, the overarching theme of this section of the song is that the Wu-Tang Clan is a force to be reckoned with, and those who try to step to them will get knocked the fuck out.

The song matches the Wu-Tang style, and it's appropriate that the RZA, who helped create the Wu-Tang Clan, is given the final verse. The track's production is a mix of electro, hip hop, and rugged beats, which suits the tone of the lyrics. The song is a tribute to the Wu-Tang Clan's dynamic and influential presence in the world of hip hop.

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Downtown Music Publishing
Written by: ROBERT F. DIGGS, GARY E. GRICE, RUSSELL T. JONES, CLIFFORD SMITH

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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