[Repeat: x4] "I'm bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out"
[Phife] Them can't touch me no, them can't touch me Them can't hold me no, them can't hold me [Repeat: x2] (Damn, Phife you got fat!) Yeah, I know it looks pathetic Ali Shaheed Muhammad got me doing calisthenics Needless to say, boy I'm bad to the bone Making love to my mic like Jarobi on the phone But um, no time for jokes (what!), there's bills to be paid (what!) Hoes to be laid (what!), punks to be sprayed (what!) Chumps to attack, so my man watch your back Cause '93 means skills are a must, so never lack (uh!) Sit back and learn, come now watch the birdie Your styles are incomplete, same as Vinny Testaverde Battling, whenever, hot damn! Give me the microphone boy, one time, bam!
[Q-Tip] Keep it on the corner, 'cause here comes the heat Lyrically it stays, the jazz will pace the beat As we proceed to elevate you, we in fo-fo Run and tell your dad the Abstract's the bag As we proceed to move your high parts, we know who has ass Poets got the gimmicks, but they lack the sassafras To make the average hard rock and cock the glock And roam the city streets on the jury, they hot I be ingredients, like sugar and candy If your life is broke, girl I'll be the handy-dandy That commends you, my fee is a shower For you, I'll scrub your back and I'll soap the butt-crack Make you shiny, spiffy in a jiff Fucking with the Ab, you got the greatest of gifts Yo, my mic is sounding bug. Bob Power, you there?(Yeah) Adjust the bass and treble make my shit sound clear(echo)
[Chorus: x8] (Q-Tip: After fourth time) Make you shiny, spiffy in a jiff Fucking with the Ab, you got the greatest of gifts A-yo, my mic is sounding bug. Bob Power, you there? Adjust the bass and treble, OK, could you come in Tip?
[Q-Tip] Whoop, back yourself man. Come watch me drop it For showing me I could do it, for showing me I can rock it Me not deal wit no changaram, bangaram business I got soul on a hymn, like Jehovah's got the witness Musically, the three, poetically, be me We in jamming on the airwaves, kids just rave Obey the MCs, 'cause the MC's say We flipping more niggas like we Super Dave But noticing my stature, y'all niggas know we gotcha Moving to the rapture, listen how we catch ya Moving with the grace, here we go, let's begin Making people jump out their goddamn skin Lyrically, we bite like we Rin Tin Tin Peace to Grand Pu and his many, many skins Don't mark with the arrow, cause we know we get the wins It's the Ab, Shaheed, and the Dawg for the blend
[Q-Tip] I wanna say peace to my man Rob P, my man Jerod, and Skeff Anslem on the help out and we out like shout Nine-tre, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, I don't wanna say nine-tre Cause my man Extra P said don't say the years So, it's for eternity, know what I'm saying? Rock rock on, everybody in Queens, rock rock on Everybody in Brooklyn, rock rock on Money earning Mt. Vernon, rock rock on Everybody in Jersey, rock rock on Everybody in Philly rock rock on Everybody in Houston, rock rock on Everybody LA, rock rock on Everybody in The Sand, rock rock on Everybody in Egypt, rock rock on Everybody Nigeria, rock rock on Everybody in London, rock rock on Everybody in Sweden, rock rock on Everybody in beware, rock rock on To the niggas on the famous, rock rock on Everybody no name, rock rock on To the kids at Nu-Clear, rock rock on The Cave rock rock on. McDonald's, rock rock on