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Q-Tip: Let me flaunt the style (style), I think that the time's near That we drop studs (studs), there will be no duds here Rappers play the dumb (dumb), kinda on the space tip But when they hear the jams (jams), they be on the dilsnick Now I'm not for the rock (rock), I know the territory Go ahead and try (try), that's a different story Similar to Grimm (Grimm), I could write a better one All about a kid (kid), who couldn't rap and didn't run Stand (stand) aside (aside), when the rap is gettin dumb Resort to baggin Billy (Billy), askin can he have some No, never ever (ever) come back and try again man If you come back (back), I'll be the first to shake your hand Competitions good (good), it brings out the vital parts The Abstract Poetic ('etic), majors in recital arts Do it for the kids (kids), the elders and the rap peers When the job is done (done), then we hear a lot of cheers Gotta feel the vibes (vibes), come from my creation If the hands clap (clap) are filled with elation Here I am ghetto, full with a lot of steam Think I gotta, I think I gotta, I think I gotta scream (scream) Cuz that's how good it feels child Let your hair down (down), so we can get buckwild Do your ill dance (dance), don't think about the next man We must have unity and think of the bigger plan The vision, we fall (fall) we must stick together, see I'd like to take this time (time) to say what's up to Kool G The name is Q-Tip (Tip), The Midnight Marauder Give enough respect ('spect) to Afrika Bambaataa As a man in the world (world), I must do my job Take care of Mama Duke (Duke), I won't resort to rob Bob you'll get your dough (dough), Mase is my witness Obsessed with the rap (rap), for its the mental fitness Like shootin cee-lo (lo), and always gettin headcracks The industry is luck (luck), winning with the fake raps Peace to the crews (crews), who pump the real hip hop Not sellin out (out) from hardrock to disc jock... (From disc jock to hardrock, from hardrock to disc jock)
Phife: I don't know what to say, but here I go freak it If the papes come, then you know I'll seek it I'm just a short brotha, dark skin face Weigh a buck-fifty, 36 waist My hair is crazy curly Front like Mr. Furley To this day, I still believe that no MC can serve me Brothas try to front, but everybody know (know) I get more props than the Arsenio Hall Show Party animal I was, but now I chill at home All I do is write rhymes, eat, drink, shit and bone Found my thrill in Amityville, I'm always in the Island Fudge and Monkey know the time, they know who keeps 'em smilin Go out on my own, somethin that I gotta do Do what the hell I want and have no one to listen to I'm prompt with my business and I do things on the double Yo, I'm out like Buster Douglass, I say peace to MC Trouble Rest in Peace Q-Tip: Word Up, rest in Peace, and you know what else? We got, we got, we got the vibe (vibe) All the people in Long Island, we got the vibe (vibe) Brooklyn and Queens, we got the vibe (vibe) Uptown and New York, we got the vibe (vibe) People upstate, we got the vibe (vibe) If you're in DC, you got the vibe (vibe) Maryland, Virginia, Carolina vibe (vibe) Out West, we got the vibe (vibe) In the Bahamas, we got the vibe (vibe) Over in Europe, you know what? We got the vibe And we gotta keep it alive, it goes on... Of rap I'm a fan, I've seen a whole lot of subs Goods with the girls, I got a whole lot of 'em From fat to skinny, Freeda to Winnie (Winnie) Emma to Cindy, Constance to Wendy (Wendy) Cuz I be more friendly (friendly), never on the snotty side I don't brag to brothas about the little papes I got (got) My vocal styles can vary, the sight is never scary (scary) It's only legendary ('dary), my father well prepared me ('pared me) My job ain't temporary, I'm here for the long shot Better yet, the long term, I don't have a perm (perm) In a way I do, call 'em the perma-naps I'm crazy slap-happy and I'm scrappy when I'm nappy When I get the mic in my hand and the crowd in stands (stands) It's as good as grand like that (that) I wanna say peace and dedicate this joint to MC Trouble and to um...Trouble T-Roy And to um...Scott La Rock and to um...Cowboy, you know what I'm sayin? This is for the slain rappers and the fallen rappers you know what I'm sayin (sayin)? This is a special, special, special, special, special dedication And also to my pops and also to Vinny, his moms (moms) you know what I'm sayin? You just gotta keep it happy and keep the vibes going and this is Vibes and Stuff And we out...
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The The Low End Theory lyrics by A Tribe Called Quest is copyrighted and eLyrics.net is featuring all 