A Tribe Called Quest Follow

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Yo it's the q-tip, you know I get down
Yes I rock to the rhythm of the funky sound
They go one, one two one two
One, one two one two

And it's the, Phife Dawg, and I do the same
And when it comes to rippin' mics aiyyo it ain't no games
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One, one two one two

Aiyyo you know it's Busta Rhymes, every time
Oh yes, I'm comin' wicked with the new design
I'm sayin', one, one two one two
One, one two one two

MC's ain't coming equipped with the rhymes
Don't do the crime if you can't do the time
The time is eternal when you play with the miser
Soul is in my body, and the health make me wiser
The tantalizing wordplay yeah that's the joint
Sometimes I have to cuss just to prove my damn point

Brothers need to come, with better, compositions
I write and recite to make good position
In this rap game here, we engineer
Stabbin' up the jam yeah son shit's clear
And I be kickin' rhymes in my own damn way
Beatin' niggaz to the punch like sugar ray

Got the cool-ass style that's cooler than the cool

Peace to c-seventy-three and c-seventy-four
Do a little somethin' when I'm out on tour
Comin' through like narcotics for the antibiotics
Flappin' shorty's stockings to the space-like sprockets

What you really need to do is just boogie your ass
It's not gassed, we got to make the good times last
Let the good times roll, 'cuz we in control
Take you out on your high less you paying' a toll
Let the good times roll, let the good times roll
Take you out on your high less you payin' a toll

Question
Why is it that, MC's be wack
And major labels wanna sound like crap
Aiyyo funk dat!

Word to life I'm comin' rugged
'Cuz once you add the hip to the hop kid, it equals out to love
If the beat's fat I use it, some wack shit, I lose it

Put down the mic kid, 'cuz you gets no dap
How long did it take for you to see you can't rap

The name is Phife Dawg, and I got 'nuff styles
It doesn't take long for me to get buckwild
So bust what I'm swingin' what I'm swingin' when I swing
I rap when I rap 'cuz I never wanna sing
Go ask the last MC what happened when he said battle
I bust his ass in Cleveland now he's sleepless in Seattle

Rude boy official comin' with the ill grammar
Comin' back on kids, like Joey Montana
We be the three MC's to make your mind go batty
Mad play, on WKRP in Cincinnati
So Lord send a hon, if ya can't send a han sen a man
An if ya kan sen a man, come ya self

'Cuz all deez bitin' MC's, lawd dem somethin' else
See I kick the styles that'll make ya ass melt
Money on my mind so never mind a trick
New York is the town and the team is the knicks
World's greatest five footer rippin' parties apart
Here comes Shaheed with the big green shark
Never had to rhyme about feelin' what with lead
Never mind dat mon here come de dread

We comin' far far far, Busta Rhymes is comin' far far far
Ya know ya hear me star! Bet your bottom dollah
Right after this jam about one million one two niggaz go follow
Whether it be today or tomorrow
Niggaz be collaboration sickening
You beat them like they father

Oh shit check out what I saying, ah ah oh ah ah ha
You know my niggaz don't be playing
Once upon a ma-hacking time
I received the opportunities to represent my first rhymes
To define, lyrical sensations
Black masons blowin' up the spot
Just to represent the nations

Three dimensions, tryclops, Mr. Busta Rhymes three eyes
Fat like a burger and fries
Mama-so-mama-saa-mamma-ma-ko-sah
Go back to the country to go check my grand mama
Eeeyah! Bing it to the table at the meetings
Gathering large receivings delivering intellectual ass beatings

As I carry on with my proceedings
Greetings! Watch a nigga debut on premier movie screenings
But before I be face to face with my eternal resting place
I hope you find civilized every soul and every race
Sit dog sit! Busta Rhymes forever on that ultrasonic shit!

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