In the smoky haze of a Durham night, where the air thrums with the promise of rhythm, there’s a new sound rising from the streets. It’s raw, it’s real, and it’s got a pulse that’ll make your bones shake. This, my friends, is The Nappy Head Funk Army, and they’re here to wage war on the mundane.

At the helm of this funky battalion is Zack Roberson, a cat who’s got more groove in his little finger than most folks have in their whole body. He’s not just laying down the law with his vocals, mind you. No sir, this cat’s slapping the bass like it owes him money, creating a foundation so solid you could build a skyscraper on it. His main thing is the skins, the traps, you dig it man DRUMS.

But every army needs its general, and for The Nappy Head Funk Army, that’s Marc Lee. He’s the man behind the curtain, the wizard of Oz, if Oz was a sweaty, pulsating dance floor. Marc’s not just booking gigs, he’s spreading the gospel of funk to every corner of this town.

Now, these cats aren’t just playing music, they’re on a mission. Their credo? It’s a manifesto, a call to arms for the funk-deprived masses. They’re not here to hurt you, no. They’re here to heal you with the power of the groove. In a world starved for authenticity, The Nappy Head Funk Army is serving up a feast of raw, unadulterated funkativity.

They’ve diagnosed America with a severe case of funk deficiency, and they’re rolling out a vaccination program that’ll make your head spin and your hips shake. It’s 2019, and the Funk Infection is spreading. Resistance is futile, baby. The only cure is to let the rhythm take control.

So when you hear that bass line creeping up your spine, when you feel that beat pulsing in your chest, don’t run. Embrace it. The Nappy Head Funk Army is here, and they’re bringing the funk whether you’re ready or not. It’s time to get down, get funky, and get free. Can you dig it?