Testi musica canzoni

Intro/Chorus

We got the jazz [X4]

Verse One: Q-Tip

Stern firm and young with a laid-back tongue

The aim is to succeed and achieve at 21

Just like Ringling Brothers, I'll daze and
astound

Captivate the mass, cause the prose is profound

Do it for the strong, we do it for the meek

Boom it in your boom it in your boom it in your
Jeep

Or your Honda or your Beemer or your Legend or
your Benz

The rave of the town to your foes and your
friends

So push it, along, trails, we blaze

Don't deserve the gong, don't deserve the praise

The tranquility will make ya unball your fist

For we put hip-hop on a brand new twist

A brand new twist with the homie-alistic

So low-key that ya probably missed it

And yet it's so loud that it stands in the crowd

When the guy takes the beat, they bowed

So raise up squire, address your attire

We have no time to wallow in the mire

If you're on a foreign path, then let me do the
lead

Join in the essence of the cool-out breed

Then cool out to the music cuz it makes ya feel
serene

Like the birds and the bees and all those groovy
things

Like getting stomach aches when ya gotta go to
work

Or staring into space when you're feeling berserk

I don't really mind if it's over your head

Cuz the job of resurrectors is to wake up the
dead

So pay attention, it's not hard to decipher

And after the horns, you can check out the Phifer

Chorus

Verse Two: Phife Dawg

Competition, dem Phifer come sideway

But competition, dey mus' me come straightway

Competition, dem Phifer come sideway

But competition, dey mus' come straightway

Hows about that, it seems like it's my turn again

All through the years my mike has been my best
friend

I know some brothers wonder, can Phifer really
kick it?

Some even wanna dis me, but why sweat it?

I'm all into my music cuz it's how I make papes

Tryin' to make hits, like Kid Capri makes tapes

Me sweat another? I do my own thing

Strictly hardcore tracks, not a new jack swing

I grew up as a Christian so to Jah I give thanks

Collect my banks, listen to Shabba Ranks

I sing, and chat, I do all of that

It's 1991 and I refuse to come wack

I take off my hat to other crews that intend to
rock

But the Low End Theory's here, it's time to wreck
shop

I got Tip and Shah, so whom shall I fear

Stop look and listen, but please don't stare

So jet to the store, and buy the LP

On Jive/RCA, cassettes and CD's

Produced and arranged by the four-man crew

And oh shit, Skiff Anselm, he gets props too

Make sure you have a system with some phat house
speakers

So the new shit can rock, from Mars to Massapequa

Cuz where I come from quality is job one

And everybody up on Linden know we get the job
done

So peace to that crew, and peace to this crew

Bring on the tour, we'll see you at a theatre
nearest you

Verse Three: Q-Tip

Hey yo but wait, back it up, hup, easy back it up

Please let the Abstract embellish on the cut

Back and forth just like a Cameo song

If you dig this joint then please come dance
along

To the music cuz it's done just for the rhyme

Now I gotta scat and get mine, underline

The jazz, the what? The jazz can move that ass

Cuz the Tribe originates that feelin' of pizzazz

It's the universal sound, best to brothers
underground

In the one-six below, ya didn't have to go

Some say that I'm a sinner cuz I once had an orgy

And sometimes for breakfast I eat grits and
porgies

If this is a stinker, then call me a stink, I ask

What? What? What? - now check it out

All my peoples in Queens ya don't stop

Now all my peoples in Brooklyn ya don't stop

And all my peoples uptown ya don't stop

That includes the Bronx a' Harlem ya don't stop

Now to that girl Ramelle ya don't stop

I say because Ladies First ya don't stop

And to the JB's, ya don't stop

And De La Soul, ya don't stop

To my Brand Nubians ya don't stop

And to my Leaders of the New ya don't stop

To my man Large Professor ya don't stop

Pete Rock for the beat ya don't stop

Everybody in the place ya don't stop

Ya keep it on, to the rhythm, ya don't stop

And last but not least on the sure shot

It's the Zulu nation