Midnight Marauders (1993)

Scott’s Selection: 10/23/16 – 10/29/16

Theme: Hip Hop

Artist: A Tribe Called Quest

Release Date: 9/9/1993

Runtime: 51:12

Label: Jive Records

Track Listing:

1). Midnight Marauders Tour Guide – 0:45
2). Steve Biko (Stir It Up) – 3:11
3). Award Tour – 3:46
4). 8 Million Stories – 4:30
5). Sucka Nigga – 4:05
6). Midnight – 3:49
7). We Can Get Down – 4:19
8). Electric Relaxation – 4:04
9). Clap Your Hands – 3:16
10). Oh My God – 3:29
11). Keep It Rollin’ – 3:05
12). The Chase, Part II – 4:02
13). Lyrics to Go – 4:09
14). God Lives Through – 4:15
15). Hot Sex – 2:45

Lyrics:

1). Midnight Marauders Tour Guide 

Hello, this is your Midnight Marauder program
I am on the front of your cover
I will be enhancing your cassettes and CDs with certain facts that you may find beneficial
The average bounce meter for your Midnight Marauder program will be in the area of 95 BPM
We hope that you will find our presentation precise, bass heavy, and just right
Thanks

2). Steve Biko (Stir It Up)

[Verse 1: Phife Dawg]
Linden Boulevard represent, represent
Tribe Called Quest represent, represent
When the mic is in my hand, I’m never hesitant
My favorite jam back in the day was Eric B. for Presi…
Rude boy composer, step to me you’re over
Brothers wanna flex, you’re not Mad Cobra
MC short and black, there ain’t no other
Trini-born black like Nia Long’s grandmother
Tip and Sha they all that, Phife Dawg ditto
Honey tell your man to chill, or else you’ll be a widow
Did not you know that my styles are top-dollar?
The Five-Foot Assassin knocking fleas off his collar
Hip hop scholar since being knee high to a duck
The height of Muggsy Bogues, complexion of a hockey puck
You better ask somebody on how we flip the script
Come to a Tribe show and watch the three kids rip

[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
Queens is in the house represent, represent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent
No taming of the style cause it gets irreverent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent
Huh-huh, here we go, you know that I’m the rebel
Throwing out the wicked like God did the Devil
Funky like your grandpa’s drawers, don’t test me
We in like that, you’re dead like Presley
When we coming through get tickets to see me
We work for the paper so there’ll never be a freebie
Lyrics are abundant cause we got it by the mass
Egos are all idle cause the music is the task
Valenzuela on the pitch, curveball, catch it
I think I got it locked, just smooth while I latch it
Right, now I must move with the quickness
Here comes Shaheed so we must bear the witness

[Hook](x2)
Stir it up! Stir it up! Stir it up!
Steve Biko

[Verse 3: Phife Dawg & (Q-Tip)]
New York City represent, represent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent
The Dawg is scientific with the styles I invent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent
MCs like to meddle, but here’s my proposition
I let my lyrics flow, and juxt your whole position
I’m radical with this like the man this song is after
Yo Tip settle down, what’s the reason for the laughter?
(I really can’t say, I guess I laugh to keep from crying
So much going on, people killing, people dying
But I won’t dwell on that, I think I’ll elevate my mental
Thanks for these bars on the Biko instrumental)
Yo I’ll take it back, I’m the Indian giver
MCs take notes as I stand and deliver
Percussion isn’t less, Ds wear the vest
Why they dodging bullets, you should be dodging Quest
Don’t get me wrong, violence is not our forte
I just like to rhyme, kick the lyric skills like Pelé
Tip educate ’em, my rhymes are strictly taboo
Fill ’em with some fantasies and I’ll look out like Tattoo

[Verse 4: Q-Tip]
Ok, I am recognizing that the voice inside my head
Is urging me to be myself but never follow someone else
Because opinions are like voices, we all have a different kind
So just clean out all of your ears, these are my views and you will find
That we revolutionize over the kick and the snare
The ghetto vocalist is on a state-wide tear
Soon to be the continent and then the freaking globe
There’s room for it all as we mingle at the mall
We welcome competition cause it doesn’t make one lazy or worn
We gotta work hard, you know the damn card
Try to be the phattest is the level that we strive
Try to be the phattest also to stay alive

3). Award Tour 

[Hook: Dove]
We on Award Tour with Muhammad my man
Going each and every place with the mic in their hand
New York, NJ, NC, VA
We on Award Tour with Muhammad my man
Going each and every place with the mic in their hand
Oaktown, LA, San Fran, St. John

[Verse 1: Q-Tip]
People give your ears so I be sublime
It’s enjoyable to know you and your concubines
Niggas, take off your coats, ladies act like gems
Sit down, Indian style, as we recite these hymns
See, lyrically I’m Mario Andretti on the MoMo
Ludicrously speedy, or infectious with the slow-mo
Heard me in the eighties, J.B.’s on “The Promo”
In my never-ending quest to get the paper on the caper
But now, let me take it to the Queens side
I’m taking it to Brooklyn side
All the residential Questers who invade the air
Hold up a second son, cause we almost there
You can be a black man and lose all your soul
You can be white and groove but don’t crap the roll
See my shit is universal if you got knowledge of dolo
Or delf or self, see there’s no one else
Who can drop it on the angle, acute at that
So, do that, do that, do do that that that (come on)
Do that, do that, do do that that that (OK)
Do that, do that, do do that that that
I’m bugging out but let me get back cause I’m wetting niggas
So run and tell the others cause we are the brothers
I learned how to build mics in my workshop class
So give me this award, and let’s not make it the last

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Phife Dawg]
Back in ’89 I simply slid in the place
Buddy, buddy, buddy all up in your face
A lot of kids was busting rhymes but they had no taste
Some said Quest was wack, but now is that the case?
I have a quest to have a mic in my hand
Without that, it’s like Kryptonite and Superman
So Shaheed come in with the sugar cuts
Phife Dawg’s my name, but on stage, call me Dynomutt
When was the last time you heard the Phife sloppy
Lyrics anonymous, you’ll never hear me copy
Top notch baby, never coming less
Sky’s the limit, you gots to believe up in Quest
Sit back, relax, get up out the path
If not that, here’s a dancefloor, come move that ass
Non-believers, you can check the stats
I roll with Shaheed and the brother Abstract
Niggas know the time when Quest is in the jam
I never let a statue tell me how nice I am
Coming with more hits than the Braves and the Yankees
Living mad phat like an oversized mampi
The wackest crews try to diss, it makes me laugh
When my track record’s longer than a DC-20 aircraft
So, next time that you think you want somethin here
Make something def or take that garbage to St. Elsewhere

[Hook]

[Outro]
Seven times out of ten we listen to our music at night, thus spawned the title of this program
The word maraud means to loot
In this case, we maraud for ears

4). 8 Million Stories

[Verse 1: Phife Dawg]
Went to Carvel to get a milk shake
This honey ripped me off for all my loot cakes
The car oh yeah there’s money in my jacket
Somebody broke into my ride and cold macked it
Yo Tip I tell you man the devil’s tryin it
But I’m goin to stay strong cause I ain’t buyin it
Tonight I’m taking Sherry out, I don’t have jack to wear
You know I gots to look dipped in the fresh new gear
Cool I found something so I ironed it
I then got caught up on the phone, oh shit, I’m frying it
Will someone tell me what did I do to deserve this?
I think I’ll, pull out my suit for Sunday service
My little brother wants Barney, cool, I’m gettin it
Took him down to Kay-Bee, they ain’t sellin it
Here we go with the crying, yo he’s throwing fits
My blood pressure’s blowing up, I can’t take the shit
Finally got what he wanted, now he’s good to go
Again the ride was smashed, where’s my radio?
One time, the car was in the shop I had to borrow see…
They had no mercy on the car, Lyor will kill me
Where the hell can Nicki be? I’m gonna smack her up
I got the tickets for the Knicks and she cold stood me up
I need to hit a honey off, Jarobi pass the phone
Pulled out my book of hoes, oh yo, Sheila’s home
Steady smiling like a mother yo I’m read’ to bone
Went down on hon, she’s in the red zone
Stressed out more than anyone could ever be
Forever tryin to clear the samples for my new LP
Everybody knows I go to Georgia often
Got on the flight and I ended up in Boston
With all these trials and tribulations, yo, I’ve been affected
And to top it off, Starks got ejected

[Hook: Phife Dawg]
Problems, problems, problems, woe is me I’m having
Problems, problems, problems..

[Verse 2: Phife Dawg]
Just last week my girl was stressin me
Now her best friend be undressing me
Well I was loving her by the moon ray
Now I’m tricking on her like Kinte’ (c’mon)
Bought a bag of izm from the smoke shop
Walking towards the car, here come the damn cops
Now I’m station bound for the Thai sticks
I bought it for my man, I don’t believe this shit
Coach sat me down from the ball team
Cause I was breaking niggas on the inseams
Some niggas cross town was trying to stick me
All I had was shorts, a dollar fifty
Picked up this girl in the hooptie
Just because I rhyme she tried to soup me
Pay for this, pay for that, loot for nails and hair
Who the hell you think I am, Mr. Belvedere?
Go and get a bloody job, then can we look cute
Even if you give me boots, you’ll never see my loot
She wasn’t even all of that just another hooker
So I turned that ass away, quick like Chuckii Booker
Sometimes you got put the hoes in their friggin’ place
Just move from in front me with your botty face!

[Hook: Phife Dawg]
Problems, problems, problems, Lord knows I’m havin
Problems, problems, problems, Jesus Christ I’m havin
Problems, problems, problems, pray for me I’m havin
Problems, problems, problems..

Yeah
Yeah..
Just lay down your burdens by the riverside
Hah, and you’ll be alright, knowhatI’msayin?
Love and peace from Phife for ’93, knahmsayin?
Tribe Called Quest, Shaheed and Tip
This is how we flip

My man Muhammad in the house, huh [come on, come on]
Zulu Nation in the house, huh [come on, come on]
Subroc is in the house, huh [come on, come on]
My man Skeff is in the house, huh [come on, come on]
Jarobi White is in the house, huh [come on, come on]
Bob Power in the house, huh [come on, come on]
My man Eric in the house, huh [come on, come on]
My man Litro in the house, huh [come on, come on]

[Hook: Q-Tip]
Help me out y’all, help me out now
Help me out y’all, help me out now
Help me out God, I really need ya
Help me out now, I really need ya
Help me out y’all, help me out now
I’m having problems, help me out now
Really need ya, to help me out now
Help me out y’all, help me out now
Help me out y’all, help me out now
Help me out y’all, help me out now
Help me out God, I really need ya
Havin problems, help me out now..

[Help me, help me, help me, help me, help me, help me
Help me, help me, help me, help me, help me, help me…..
…..MUHAMMAD!!]

5). Sucka Nigga

[Intro]
“Hey sucker nigga, whoever you are”
“Hey sucker nigga, whoever you are”
“Hey sucker nigga, hey sucker nigga”
“Whoever you are, whoever you are”

[Verse 1: Q-Tip]
I be hating sucker MCs, and the sucker niggas
Posing like they hard when we know they damn card
What you figure, rhyme-wise I do the figure eight so concisely
Musically we are the herb so sit back and light me
Inhale…
My style is kinda fat reminiscent of a whale
Young girls desires older female dreams
I be the Abstract Poetic representing from Queens
Socially I’m not inane, black and white got game
If you came to the jam, well I’m glad you came
See, nigga first was used back in the Deep South
Falling out between the dome of the white man’s mouth
It means that we will never grow, you know the word dummy
Upper niggas in the community think it’s crummy
But I don’t, neither does the youth cause we em-
Brace adversity it goes right with the race
And being that we use it as a term of endearment
Niggas start to bug, to the dome is where the fear went
Now the little shorties say it all of the time
And a whole bunch of niggas throw the word in they rhyme
Yo I start to flinch, as I try not to say it
But my lips is like the oowop as I start to spray it
My lips is like a oowop as I start to spray it
My lips is like a oowop as I start to spray the

[Hook: Q-Tip]
Sucka nigga, nigga nigga
I throw the sucka in the front for the ones that front
(Repeat x3)

It’s the neo-nigga of the nineties, c’mon

[Hook]
Aiyyo Shaheed, take us the fuck outta here

[Spoken Outro]
You’re not any less of a man, if you don’t pull the trigger
You’re not necessarily a man, if you do

6). Midnight 

[Hook]
The night is on my mind
The sun’ll still shine
But the night is on my mind

So parlay while I drop this rhyme

[Verse 1]
See, Jake be gettin illy when the sun get dark
He be coming out for heads but shit don’t let me start
There’s activities a-plenty in the nighttime
For the ghetto child it seem to be the right time
See, kids be getting stuck with jewels and fly gimmicks
Shorty see the action and then start to mimic
Running to the corner, the dice game is blazing
Looking at the loot, it seems so amazing
Puts the short down, to be exact one pound
He shakes the stones in his hand, then he lets it down
Scared money don’t make none
He threw a trick on the ace now he’s out son
Hits the local bodega to wolf down a gyro
Son is on a midnight run like De Niro
Spots a shorty rock standing on his block
The fiends be hounding him to pump so he asked it it’s not
Conversation that he kicked to the shorty was a sly one
Increased intensity, cause damn she was a fly one
Took her to the crib there she ran her jibs
About mind upliftment and being positive
He yawned and he sighed til 1:05
Then he finally realized that honey wasn’t live
At least he didn’t plan on building for the evening
Threw the Fila on the dome and said ‘Come on yo, we leaving’
Came out on the scene as he told her to beep him
Saw his man Stan with the blunt in his hand
(Ah sh…) You know the transaction
Brothers gettin lost in the weed satisfaction
Coming down the block man loud as (fuck)
You would swear Redman was inside the truck
As the night seemed darker, cops is on a hunt
They interrupt your cipher, and crush your blunt
See you left your work at home so they pat you down for nothing
Why in the hell does 10-4 keep fronting
You push to the park even though it’s still dark
The kid is nice on the hoop, he said ‘I’ll spot you troop’

[Hook]

[Verse 2]
As for me I’m a nocturnal animal, God concentrates
On a young black man who makes the niggas speakers shake
The nighttime is busy, it’s word to Aunt Kizzy
It’s the time we get down, yo son, you know the sound
The flavas on the top with the rugged beat to back it
The night makes the aura and the Jake can’t hack it
The way the moon dangles in the midnight sky
And the stars dance around, a-yo I think it’s fly
Intensity, most rappers don’t see it
Spirit wise, musically, you gotta be it
Serenity and silence of the sounds and emotions
In the concrete jungle and the sun don’t bungle
I think it’s hard to find the words on how I feel
I paid about a deuce twenty for the Ampex steel
But let me slow down, I think I ran my jibs enough
Peace out to the Nation, stay rugged and rough

[Hook]

[Outro]
Did you know that the rate of AIDS in the Black and Hispanic community is rising at an alarming rate?
Education is proper means for slowing it down

7). We Can Get Down

[Hook]
We can get down, we can we can get down (Repeat x8)
It’s like that man, it’s like that (yes!) (Repeat x4)
Check it!

[Verse 1: Phife Dawg]
I’m not your average MC with the Joe Schmoe flow
If you don’t know me by now, you’ll never know
Stepping on my critics, beating on my foes
The plan is to stay focused, only then I can grow
Straight from the heart, I represent hip hop
I be three albums deep, but I don’t wanna go pop
Too many candy rappers seem to be at the top
Too much candy is no good, so now I’m closing the shop
Crushing competition like Italians on grapes
My rhymes styles be blending like a Ron G tape
My man where ya going, you can’t escape
When the Tribe is in the house that means nobody is safe
How can a reverend preach, when a rev can’t define
The music of our youth from 1979
We rap by what we see, meaning reality
From people busting caps and like Mandela being free
Not every MC be with the negativity
We have a slew of rappers pushing positivity
Hip hop will never die yo, it’s all about the rap
So Mayor Barry smoking crack, let’s preach about that
The trash you talk won’t matter, that old bogus chatter
The more that you condemn us, it only makes us phatter
When I talk, I know I’m talking for Hip Hoppers all around
You know you love the sound, we gets down

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
I’m the cherry on the top of yo ice cream
I’m the mystic thought inside your dream
Listen to the way we pulsate the jam
I’m the nigga here with the mic in hand
Styles that we present are just a few
To do away with you and your hum drum crew
This is ’93 and the shit is real
Black people unite and put down your steel
Ladies make a forum on your sexual drive
Devote it to your lover and make it thrive
The rhythm’s in F, I’m a hip hop body
Release my energy with the force of a shotty
Standing on the wall with my Polo on
Talking to the girl with the Liz Claiborne
Keep the poetry in my black knapsack
Got my Timbo hooves and my Doublemint pack
Hit the city streets to enhance my soul
I can kick a rhyme over ill drum rolls
With a kick, snare, kicks and high hat
Skilled in the trade of that old boom bap
I can do a trick with the opposite breed
I used to down 40s and smoke grade weed
Now, I’m doing shows with half loot down
Now it’s time for me to take ya uptown

It’s like that man, it’s like that (yes!) (7X)
It’s like this, Shaheed!

Shaheed:(scratching)(until end)
Rakim: “Why waste time on the microphone”

[Outro]
A Tribe Called Quest consists of four members:
Phife Dawg, Ali Shaheed Muhammad, Q-Tip, and Jarobi
A E I O U and sometimes Y

8). Electric Relaxation 

[Hook]
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down

[Verse 1: Q-Tip & Phife Dawg]

[Q-Tip]
Honey, check it out, you got me mesmerized
With your black hair and your fat-ass thighs
Street poetry is my everyday
But yo, I gotta stop when you trot my way
If I was working at the club you would not pay
Aiyyo, my man Phife Diggy, he got something to say

[Phife Dawg]
I like ’em brown, yellow, Puerto Rican or Haitian
Name is Phife Dawg from the Zulu Nation
Told you in the jam that we can get down
Now let’s knock the boots like the group H-Town
You got BBD all on your bedroom wall
But I’m above the rim and this is how I ball
A gritty little something on the New York street
This is how I represent over this here beat
Talking ’bout you

[Q-Tip]
Yo, I took you out
But sex was on my mind for the whole damn route
My mind was in a frenzy and a horny state
But I couldn’t drop dimes cause you couldn’t relate

[Hook]
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down

[Verse 2: Q-Tip & Phife Dawg]

[Q-Tip]
Stretch out your legs, let me make you bawl
Drive you insane, drive you up the wall
Staring at your dome-piece, very strong
Stronger than pride, stronger than Teflon
Take you on the ave and you buy me links
Now I wanna pound the poontang until it stinks
You can be my mama and I’ll be your boy

[Phife Dawg]
Original rude boy, never am I coy
You can be a shorty in my ill convoy
Not to come across as a thug or a hood
But hon, you got the goods, like Madelyne Woods
By the way, my name’s Malik
The Five-Foot Freak
Let’s say we get together by the end of the week
She simply said, “No”, labelled me a ho
I said, “How you figure?” “My friends told me so”
I hate when silly groupies wanna run they yap
Word to God, hon, I don’t get down like that

[Q-Tip]
I’ll have you weak in the knees that you could hardly speak
Or we could do like Uncle L and swing an ep in my jeep
Keep it on the down, yo, we keep it discreet
See, I’m not the type of kid to have my biz in the streets

[Phife Dawg]
If my mom don’t approve, then I’ll just elope
Let me save the little man from inside the boat
Let me hit it from the back, girl I won’t catch a hernia
Bust off on your couch, now you got Seaman’s Furniture

[Q-Tip]
Shaheed, Phife and the Extra P
Stacy Beadle, PJ and my man L.G
They know the Abstract is really soul on ice
The character is of men, never ever of mice
Shorty let me tell you about my only vice
It has to do with lots of loving and it ain’t nothing nice

[Hook]
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down
Relax yourself girl, please set-tle down

[Outro]
Keep bouncing

9). Clap Your Hands 

[Hook]
(*scratching* – “Clap your hands now”)

[Verse 1: Phife Dawg]
Brothers know the flavs when the Quest gets loose
Slamming sucker fuckers like the wrestler Zeus
Crazier than 2Pac in the flick called Juice
Cock is longer than the hat worn by Dr. Seuss
Love a girl in Daisy Dukes like them kids called Duice
Gets paid to sex the hoochie like my main man Luke
Control the mic like Denzel on the girls
Wack MCs be on the nuts like Rocket J. Squirrel
The worst thing in the world is a sucker MC
Favorite rap group in the world is EPMD
Can’t forget the De La, due to originality
And if I ever went solo my favorite MC would be me
Phife Dawg up in the house, I give a shout out to Snoopy
Peace to all the Questers, to hell with the groupies
Like um, Ralph Malph to Potsie, Brooklyn to Dodger
Laverne to Shirley, Rerun to Roger
Ren to the Stimpy, Laurel to Hardy
Q-Tip and Phife, they mash up the party
Kick the rhymes and more rhymes
Kick the beats and more beats
We’ll have you scratching in your head like Shaheed on Technics
For those who wanna oppose then take a stand
But for now, just shut your shit and clap your hands

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
You just wanna dance man, then clap your hands
If you venture up the wrong road, then the circumstance
Will be crucial, I got hundreds of rhymes that’ll suit you
So listen
The Abstract intuition is very very worthy
I can feel ya out from Russia to Jersey
Can’t understand the underground, it gets deep
The Lo, the Nikes, the links, the jeeps
The women, the lingo, and all the other goods
Peace to the hoods, keep my shit on play
Please don’t do the mute when you hear me onthe juke
Brothers know the angle, it’s the Star-Spangled black banner
Hook up the beats at the funk manor
If you want a roll, then the dough I be raking
The scope is on the world cos it’s mine for the taking
You know I’m gonna do it
My shit is rock solid, but it flows like fluid
Chemists get confused of my ill composition
This is the third of the new Tribe addition
MCs be swinging, but a lot of them be missing
So shut your bloodclot and listen
Cuz I’m bringin you the ill rendition
I’d like to send this out to the L.E.S
Gotta a lot of rhythm and style and finesse
Come here love, hot sex on a plat
And when your done with that then clap

[Hook] – repeat until end

[Outro]
Keep bouncing

10). Oh My God 

[Verse 1: Q-Tip]
Listen up everybody, the bottom line
I’m a black intellect, but unrefined
With precision like a bullet, target bound
Just living like a hooker, the harlot sounds
Now when I say the harlot, you know I mean the hot
Heat of the equator, the broth that’s in the pot
Jalick, Jalick ya wind up ya hip
Drafting of the poets, I’m the #7 pick
Licks licks licks boy ‘pon your backside
Licks licks licks boy ‘pon your backside
Listen to the fader, Shaheed lets it glide
Tip the earthly body, heaven’s on my side
Even in Santo Domingo when I got a Gringo
We got mics, when do we go?
Know a little nigga who can rhyme when you ask me
Short, dark, and plus his voice is raspy

[Verse 2: Phife Dawg]
1 for the treble, 2 for the bass
You know the style Tip, it’s time to flip this
I like my beats hard like two day old shit
Steady eating booty MCs like cheese grits
My man Al B. Sure, he’s in effect mode
Used to have a crush on Dawn from En Vogue
It’s not like honey dip would wanna get with me
But just in case I own more condoms than T.L.C
Now the formula is this: me, Tip, and Ali
For those who can’t count it goes 1-2-3
The anti batty boy, big up is who I be
Brothers find this hard to do but never me
Some brothers try to diss but Malik, you see ’em bitching
Me no care about them dibby MC, my shit is hitting
Trini gladiator, anti-hesitater
Shaheed push the fader from here to Grenada
Mr Energetic, who me sound pathetic?
When’s the last time you heard a funky diabetic?
(I don’t know man, I don’t know man, I don’t know man)
(I don’t know, I don’t know)

[Hook: Busta Rhymes]
Oh my God, yes, oh my God
(Repeat x8)

[Verse 3: Q-Tip]
Complementary are we, the three for poetry
I got a humdinger coming hook line and sinker
The Timbo hoofs with the prints on the ground
Timbos on the toes, I like the way it’s going down
Down like a lady of the evening
When it goes in Toots just believe it’s in
Cause Queens is the county, Jamaica is the place
Take off your cleats cause you can’t run the race

[Hook]
(Repeat to fade)

[Outro]
The title MC means Master of Ceremony
Some people who MC don’t know what this term means

11). Keep It Rollin’ 

[Verse 1: Phife Dawg]
A-yo swing swing swing, to chop chop chop
Yo that’s the sound when MC’s get mopped
Don’t come around town without the hip in your hop
Cause when the shit hits the fan, that ass’ll get dropped
MC’s wanna attack me but them punks can’t cope
I’ll have you left without a job, like Isaac from The Love Boat
So money watch your mouth, or I’mma have to bust ya
Battling MC’s, from JFK to Russia
Back down to London, Sweden and Brazil
Do a U.S. tour for three months and then I chill
Styles be fat like Jackie Gleason, the rest be Art Carney
People love the Dawg like the kids love Barney
“I love you, you love me”
The shorty Phife Dawg is your favorite MC
So move back yaself dread, you know the element
The Tribe is good for your health like a can of Nutrament
MC’s don’t have no wins, MC’s don’t have no (bitches)
I flip shit crazier than a busload full of Jerry’s Kids
Your crew don’t want it and your crew don’t want it
But if you feel you can swing it, then money please bring it
Large Professor in the house, you know how we do
I skate on your crew, like Mario Lemieux
Peace to Ike Love and the rest of the crew
I’ll meet you guys in front the cleaners, bring the blunts and the brew so…

[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
Whassup kids? The Ab is speaking from the moon
Thanks for your support, a-yo I’ll be home soon
But the only thing I ask when I return from my task
Is a whole bunch of beats and a flask full of ass
My fist stands firm because I’m, black and solid
I open up your pores like a plate full of collards
C’mon take it easy wouldya, easy easy
I’m up in the gulley, that’s when I am her Buddy
She told me pull her hair, I did, it drove her nutty
Filled up the hole like spackle or I mean putty
When we over joints like this we never cruddy
Extra P hooked the beat, and kid that feels luh-ove-ly
Check it out, cause my conception is immaculate
A bachelor, looking for a bachlelorette
Back to you MC’s, this is what you’re gonna get
A first degree burn from my man Ken’s cigarette
I hope you like Malboro, Paul you know we thorough like Denver
The beat feels like a never-ender
But all things good must, so I won’t sweat it
Drop the seeds for the youthful crew, I hope you get it
As I stand, grip this mic inside my hand
Boy I smack you up, like I was your old grand
So respect yourself Son, and come and gimme love
Once again the Ab is who you think of
So chill with the beef money, we gotta dead it

[Verse 3: Large Professor]
It’s Extra P and yo Tip I’m bout to set it
On the country once again here to win
I’m Uptown chilling, taking in this Grandmaster Vic blend
From the projects, the PJ’s, fuck them two DJs
Self mission, I had her in the ill position saying
“Large you’s the soul brother that I’d like to eff with for the rest of my life”
Yeah yeah now check the method
As I, proceed with what you need like Akinyele
A whip looks complete when the tires say Pirelli
Funk monkey, one rapper fell off, now he’s a junkie
There’s 8 million stories in the city it’s a pity
Don’t fuck with the skins if she’s trying to act shitty
Big shout to the Guru, Primo and Zulu
Nation, was on a vacation, in the ghetto
Yo Ras slow your roll I’m bout to bag this here’s metal
Rapper Nas on top it seems we gonna rock it
Queens represent, buy the album when I drop it

12). The Chase, Part II 

I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out

[Intro: Phife Dawg]
Them can’t touch we, no them can’t touch we
Them can’t hold we, no them can’t hold we
Them can’t touch we, no them can’t touch we
Them can’t hold we, no them can’t hold we

[Verse 1: Phife Dawg]
(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, there’s bills to be paid
Hoes to be laid, punks to be sprayed
Chumps to attack, so my man watch your back
’93 means skills are a must, so never lack
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!

[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
Keep it on the cooler cos here come the heat
Lyrically in space the jazz will pace the beat
As we proceed to elevate you we in 4/4
Run and tell your dad the Abstract’s the bad
As we proceed to move your hind parts we know as ass
Poets got the gimmicks, but they lack the sassafras
To make the average hardrocker cock the Glock
And roam the city streets on the jury, they hot
I be ingredients, like sugar in candy
If your life is broke, girl I’ll be the handy-dandy
That can mend you, my fee is a shower
For you, I scrub the back and I floss the butt crack
Make you shiny, spiffy in a jiff
Fucking with the Ab, you got the greatest of gifts
A-yo, my mic is sounding bugged, Bob Power, you there? (Yeah)
Adjust the bass and treble make my shit sound clear(clear, clear, clear, clear)

I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out
I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out

[Verse 3: Q-Tip]
Move back yourself man, come watch me drop it
For sure me a go do it, for sure me a go rock it
Me not deal with no changaram, bangaram business
I got soul on the end, like Jehovah’s got the witness
Musically, the three, poetically we be
The enchantment on the airwaves, kids just fade
Obey the MCs, cos the MCs say
We flipping on 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 us for the ‘L’ cos you know we get the wins
It’s the Ab, Shaheed, and the Dawg for the blend

(I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out)
And I wanna say peace to my man Bob P, my man Jerod (I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out)
(I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out)
(I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out)
And Skeff Anslem on the help out – and we out like shout(I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out)
(I’m bound to wreck your body and say turn the party out)
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Nine-tre, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh…
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
I don’t wanna say nine-tre
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Cause my man Extra P said don’t say the years
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
So, it’s for eternity, know what I’m saying?
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Rock rock on, everybody in Queens, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Everybody in Brooklyn, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Money Earnin’ Mt. Vernon, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Everybody in Jersey, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Everybody in Philly rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Everybody in Houston, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Everybody LA, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Everybody in The Sand, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Everybody in Egypt, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Everybody Nigeria, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Everybody in London, rock rock on
Everybody in Sweden, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Everybody everywhere, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
To the niggas on the famous, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
Everybody no name, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
To the kids at Nu-Clear, rock rock on
(I’m bound to ……… turn the party out)
To the… The Cave rock rock on
McDonald’s, rock rock on

[Outro]
This concludes Midnight Marauder Program
Press any key to return to the main menu

13). Lyrics to Go 

[Hook: Q-Tip]
Lyrics to go (lyrics to go) uhh
Lyrics to go (lyrics to go) ahh yeah, c’mon
Lyrics to go (lyrics to go)
Lyrics to go (lyrics to go) yeah yeah
Lyrics to go (lyrics to go)

[Verse 1: Q-Tip]
Goin on and on to the rhythmic variation
Wakin in the morning I still represent the nation
When I speak of nation please don’t make the deviation
Rebels of the party who create the drum sensation
Mind is a pit of different information
Microphone is on so of course communication
Bogle at the party then you got the bogle-ation
Decaptatin foes yo as if my name was Jason(c’mon)
Makin all the fellas at the party lose composure
Hook up the beat with the mic and it’s over (original, uh!)
A Tribe Called Quest we on the run for whatever
Trials and tribulations that we have to endeavor
Brothers know my steelo it’s a letter to the better
If you see a shorty that you like, then you sweat her
Silly with the microphone, in other words I’m loco
Six foot zero with my height, complexion cocoa
Representin on the mic it seems to be my daily
I can do a split and turn around like Alvin Ailey
But when it comes to days like this I got lyrics to go

[Hook]
(I got lyrics to go) It’s like that y’all, c’mon y’all
Lyrics to go It’s like that y’all, c’mon y’all
(Lyrics to go) It’s like that

[Verse 2: Phife Dawg]
I know it’s been two years but see the Tribe was never fallin
Would have tried for singin but that stuff was not my callin
The mic is in effect so you know I’m never stallin
Walkin through the door and all them suckers started haulin
Talk a lot of trash but no one can seem to beat it
Pull out your microphone and watch the Phifer make you eat it
The MC’s they get jealy when the girly’s on my belly
Kick a slow dance like my brother R. Kelly (bust a rhyme)
Today’s a hip-hop draft will I be top-seeded? (uhh)
Worked too frickin hard while all the rest were gettin weeded
Steady kickin styles so I can reach that other level (uh)
Don’t worry about gettin gassed I push the pedal to the metal
Always wanted this cause it surely beats a scramble (right)
I’m Jordan with the mic, huh, wanna gamble?(mmm)
This I dedicate to all the honiest that be bogle-in
Cause at the end of the night y’know Malik will have his Trojans
But when it comes to nights like this I got lyrics to go

Check it out y’all
(Lyrics to go) It’s like that y’all
Lyrics to go Check it out y’all
(Lyrics to go) It’s like that y’all
Lyrics to go Check it out y’all
(Lyrics to go) It’s like that y’all
Lyrics to go Check it out y’all
(Lyrics to go) It’s like that y’all
It’s like that y’all
Check it out y’all
It’s like that y’all
Check it out y’all
It’s like that y’all
Check it out here we go!

[Verse 3: Q-Tip]
Please proceed with caution cause the lyricist is fatal
I can kick your little monkey ass like Kato (yes dread, uhh)
Formulate your rhymes like a child forms Play-Doh (right)
Calm and serene like the study was Tao
Poetry machine with correct mechanisms
Immune to disease I defeat organisms
That are waitin in my path, I overstep the critters
Give your ass the willies and your moms’ll get the jitters
Quitters turn to losers, losers are forgotten
Tangling my cord with hopes that I’ll stop rockin
Never will that happen only if it is permitted (uhh)
Wait… I think somebody shitted (c’mon)
I guess that will be me cause I’m the only one MCin
I go for what I know doin a show for human beings
Always try to lead yo never will I follow
Blowin up the spot like Fred did to Rollo
And when it comes to days like this, I got lyrics to go

Check it out y’all
(Lyrics to go) It’s like that y’all
I got lyrics to go Everybody
(I got lyrics to go) Ah c’mon now
I got lyrics to go Ah check it out y’all
(I got lyrics to go) It’s like that now
I got lyrics to go Everybody
(I got lyrics to go) Ah c’mon now
I got lyrics to go Check it out y’all
(I got lyrics to go) It’s like that now
I got lyrics to go C’mon y’all
(I got lyrics to go) Everybody
I got lyrics to go It’s like that y’all
(I got lyrics to go) Check it out now
I got lyrics to go Ah c’mon y’all
(I got lyrics to go) Everybody
I got lyrics to go It’s like that y’all
(I got lyrics to go) Check it out now
I got lyrics to go It’s like that y’all
(I got lyrics to go) Every-bo-ty
I got lyrics to go It’s like that y’all
(I got lyrics to go) Ah check it out now
It’s like that y’all
Check it now
It’s like that y’all
Check it now
It goes… uhh

14). God Lives Through 

[Hook]
“Oh my God!”

[Verse 1: Phife Dawg]
There’s a million MCs that claim they want some
But see I create sounds that make your ears go numb
Peace to Sayres Ave., yeah you know how we go
My best friend Steven at the Home Depot
Laurelton is in the house, I can’t forget Southside
Walk past MCs like that girl did to Pharcyde
I’m labeled as the cat’s meow, the MC with the know-how
Act like you know, not now but right now
Beast of the East, on MCs I have a feast
I’d eat that ass like quiche, crack a smile like Shanice
Straight outta Jamaica, seen? Jamaica, Queens
But you could find me out in Georgia, or anywhere in between
Now if my partners don’t look good, Malik won’t look good
If Malik don’t look good, then Quest won’t look good
If the Quest don’t look good, then Queens won’t look good
But since the sounds are universal, New York won’t look good
Picture Phife losing a battle, come on, get off it
Put down the microphone son, surrender, forfeit
Did I hear something ’bout a crew? What they wanna do?
You better call Mr. Babyface so he can bring out the cool in you
Or it’ll be a sad love song being sung by Toni Braxton
And I’ll dissect you like a fraction
Oh, you wannabe top cat MCs, I’ll pop you like a zit
You wanna be the champ, you more like Chief Some-shit
Big up myself every time when it comes to this
MCs be running scared as if they’re watching the Exorcist
I kick more game than a crackhead from Hempstead
My styles are milk, man, you’d think that I was breast-fed
You know the steelo when the diggy Dawg is on the scene
I dedicate this to all the MCs outta Queens
That goes for Onyx, LL, Run DMC
Akinyele, Nasty Nas and the Extra P
You need a chart, straight up and down man, there ain’t no other
Nuff respect to all my peeps that made the album cover
Yo, Tip don’t worry none you know I get the party jumping
Get on the mic and break ’em off a little little something
Yo, Tip don’t worry none you know I gets the party jumping
Get on the mic my man and break ’em off a little something

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
We got the funk doody don shit, clearly it’s the bomb shit
So recognize me, kids memorize me
Everyday, I be scrounging, really I be lounging
I play the down low, very very incognito
Aries is my sign, I know that I can rhyme
Sometimes I rhyme in riddles, plus I make the honeys wiggle
Intellect is the major, some heads like to wager
The skills on the hill, overlooking dollar bills
Man, you’re crazy, thinking you can phase me
The Ab doesn’t study mere nonsense, money
Life seems to need me, MCs seem too cheesy
With their doody ass renditions of defeating competition
I rock to the roll man, yes, I’m a soul man
Bet your bottom dollar Vinia will make you holler
As you stand at attention, did I forget to mention
MCs will give me twenty if I sense that they act funny
Lyrics are abundant, right there, I sound redundant
Just mentioning the fact that the area is fat
I dwell in the under, so honey it’s no wonder
That I get plenty of tail, well I even get white
I’mma bet hitting head crack, there money, take that
Breaking niggas off, cut their bank, then I’m off
While my Nikes match my Lo hat, beat joint is mad fat
Got the cutter of the box if a kid think he’s ox
For tier means creator, the poetry relator
It’s hemmed like Betsy Ross, let me tell you who’s the boss

[Hook]

[Outro: Q-Tip]
Queens got a…
Brooklyn got a…
Bronx got a…
Staten Island got a…
Long Island got the zone
Jersey got a…
Philly got a…
Milwaukee got a…
L.A. got a…
Oaktown got the zone

15). Hot Sex 

[Hook]

Hot sex on a platter [x8]

[Phife Dawg]
Ayo who wanna pull on Phifer long time no hear from
Suckers walkin’ around talking about they could get some
But that pop is non cypher, no can do
And if you think I’m a dope, then ask the other crew
And I proceed to let you know, exactly how to flow
I’m not Lawn Doctor so just step off with the ho
Oops my mistake I didn’t know you went with her
Should I run down the line of the all the kids that done hit her
Don’t be bitter, I hear that honey resembles a critter
I heard she likes the two on one like my man John Ritter
But back to the subject you can’t catch wreck
You must get respect, to earn respect
Suckers think they could herb me cuz know I where specks
You’re full of jokes, but you your name ain’t flex
I got the riches, the bitches, I’m large like a Huxtable
You think you’re all that but you’re girl’s quite doable
Yeah, I’m tellin’ you G, to back up off me
I’m not a mad cohort, but I’m not Mr. Softee
Rappin’ is an art, coming straight from the heart
So forget the chart because the action can start

Chorus

[Q-Tip]
… where ya at? To all my peoples with the funk
I’m the undercover brother dump your ho in the trunk
Save all the sad songs and the tearjerkers
Niggas step up it’s the lyrical worker
The poems that I create ain’t in paper back books
The poems that I create are for hookers and the crooks
My mental is excelling cuz I dabble in the books
I’m not the one to front on, so suboops-suboops
Yo I gets the pickens, I’m such a damn Dickens
If you step to this then the plot just thickens
I’ll run you around the track like a bunny and a dog
To me, your just another MC on the log
A link on the chain, fluid on the brain
I boast of hype lyrics, and yours are mardane
See I can’t maintain, especially if you come back
I’m the lyrical master blaster, yeah I can do that
I can also do your girl, so leave the ho at home
Cuz when I get done, I’ll have her strung on bones
It’s the no-joke pressure, that elevates my mind
Makes me pick up and go when it’s time to drop a rhyme
My title is locked, the Abstract poetic
I’m in the idle mode but my energy’s kinetic
So smooth and debonair, especially for the ear
Gotta keep my thing in gear cuz it’s evident and clear
That I will rock, rock, rock [fades away]

Chorus

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