Sh. Fe. MC's

De La Soul

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    We are here to tell the world just who we are
    Shocking female (MC's), shocking female (MC's) (Repeat 2x)

    Verse 1: Phife

    No need for, introductions, cause I know you know my name and
    Knocking MC's out the frame and, putting them suckers to shame and
    I live for hip-hop, so I have no time for fun and games and
    So just come and peep the unique styles we are displaying
    The beat's just ridiculous, the lyrics articulate
    Feels good, as if a girl just touched her (tits)
    Sucker MC's, I'm killing 'em, I'm so sick of seeing 'em
    Silly (shit) when they rhyme, like that red rugby shirt worn by Gilligan
    Plus the hat, they (shit) is wack
    When you see me coming take ten steps back
    I make usage of the pronouns, adjectives, verbs
    My granny says "You always had a way with words"
    And that's because my word is bond, lyrics are laws
    Sucker MC's look at me like I'm friggin' eye sore

    Verse 2: Posdnuos

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    Heere comes a brother hipping others on the style they lack
    I've always rhymed abstract, I even know the brother named Abstract
    I am the earner of the soul in mine
    Forget the physical cause the physical will die with time
    I'm shaped to vibrate in definite proportions
    Of the kids who need the fix (Just listen to the mix)
    I just imagine constant non-stop for the rubbishing
    Like (niggas) use the Clinton loops as if they owned the publishing
    Ducks be bleeding from illegal feeding on my verb
    I bring the Mardi Gras to your face
    I outwit vipers in my rhyme cipher
    I can easily lick them cause they're victims of the subconscious race
    Tossing periods in front of false reps?
    It's not the 187 when the 360 slept
    You swallow the cake from the plate of elevate
    Or you might get sparked by the crew who got the weight
    So recessitating rap like the hicks do with Presley
    It's the kid who peed the jeans in Orleans off of Nesley
    Just be MC number nine, if you let me rhyme nine times infinitely I will
    climb
    I let my Walkman from Sony play cassettes from Raboni
    Which guarantees to put me on the narrow road
    Ayo, that's it from me, Plug 3, and Ali explode!

    Verse 3: Q-Tip

    When I rhyme, the effect just ripples
    You sound sick, I hope your cells get sickles
    You formulate into real stiff (shit)
    Then I bet that it cut the chit chit
    Cause the Ab will, be sharper than a Ginsu
    Cutter or your bum (ass) head for the gutter
    This is not a game and we ain't looking for the fame
    That ain't the aim, we came to rip the jam out the frame
    My inter-reaction with paper is amazing
    So needless to say mad trails are left blazing
    A whole lot of bull(shit) rhymes start to get play
    But I'm here to say real rhymes to pay
    I'm the type of brother that writes until my knuckles get nary
    And through the domepiece, the rhymes will carry
    Then transported to my throat then the quotes hit the air
    As I stand dipped with the wares
    Rhymes get slot times, move back from the jack
    It's the verbal constructor, some MC's is wack
    I make a girl do the bogle, doo doo brown and all
    Make (niggas) jump up, drink Don, and have a ball
    I ainimate the unlively with the verbal combat
    The Abstract, never the wack
    Motivator of the many like Moses
    Moving through, bringing games into the dummies that pose us
    That means you the sub relator of the sub culture
    Like a vulture I swoop down on crowns, cause confusion all around
    Mental burdens I bring to MC's who sing
    They sad songs, money, the dough's not long
    Mine on the other hand is lent me tight
    The Abstract gets real, real, real

    Verse 4: Dove

    Real down to Earth I hit the Long Island Rail
    You never see me tango with the horn and the tail
    I got the kid for your mind I design it like sender
    Smoking made hope from my neighbors, and the
    50/50 luck takes the "S" off my chest
    Cause the "S" on my chest makes a mess
    Settling for Superman, stupid man, put on your glasses
    Now your (ass) be slow guessing like molasass
    Continue the menu, next on the platter
    Hey where that (bitch) at? (He's right here boy!)
    I gotta see what I got and who I'm getting it with
    This ain't no nickle dime game that I'm peddling with
    Mikie Rose said "Stop riding, it be dividing
    Taking me out how I be vibing"
    Packing hard like pistol but my pops got the crystal
    Told me if I ever need it just *whistle*
    Respects to Griff Dog for the razor
    Much respects to Joe but for the favor
    It's about a million brothers trying to make it in this world
    I'm glad I got a baby girl

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Ali Shaheed Muhammad, Malik Taylor y V. Keith Mason

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