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(feat. Phife Dawg)
La Schmoove, yo we don't got nuttin to prove [x4] [Poc Fu] Yo, when I was small they used to tease me Because my hair was peasy, hard and greasy But now I'm livin well like George and Wheezy So easy (WHAT?) does it (YO!) Is it, because I'm, rockin - beats, beats, beats Fu-Manchu'n cause I'm doin what just had to be done Now we in there like swimwear, girls callin me hon Give me hugs, little peck, mucho tongue, lots of sex Nuff respects to my bros that live on five-six street RIGHT I'm smashin monster mashin boom bashin in a fashion Which is wild now I smile when I whip-lash MC's with my style Call me Cuckoo, I'm makin buku, bucks I'm geared and fully prepared to tear all MC's that are, smuks For bros who sleep and cavity creep and listen when I talk As I soothe in the groove, cause I'm smooth like Mr. Rourke Doobely-zoo Mr. Wu, no need to be rude, but F.U. Cause I ain't got nuttin to prove La Schmoove, yo we don't got nuttin to prove [x4] [Chip Fu] 'Leave it to Beaver'-arriva, derci Heavens to mercy ba FU sayanora Adios muchachos dorme vous unbuckle my Fu-Schnick shoe Mr., Chip Fu, about to wreck shop With the Judo (CHOP!) a Judo (CHOP!) a Judo chop CHOP! Yo, zilch kaput me nada none son I don't think so, so take a look at A Superfly big Jimmy the Honeynut Cheerio Bee Ba schnicker bah snchnucker I ams what I ams that's all what I ams My lyrics are never done I'm the big John Elmer Glue the Elmer the Fudd Al Bundy the Bud Light stud Come like tongues lashes, with the quickness Moc and Poc is, my witness Ask the Kung about my tongue and the styles that I brung instead I'm the Ali Babi cutty rankin shuba-dib-da-dabble Jaw Boy Wonder Bread dread, BUM BA READ These lyrics ah-come out of mi head, BUM BA READ Mr. Chip Fu's gon stay' di-di, da-di-di, dra-dread You said I couldn't rap, but I really wrecked shop And I don't stop drop, I get props I pick up the mic drop a style and pattern and fashion And all MC's jaws drops down My accent, you're mockin, my clothes, you're clockin Rippin MC's to smithereens to their Ribbidy-diddiby-Pippi Long-STOCKINGS So don't step to Chip, I'm on the La Schmoove tip You'll say "Drats I really failed again plus he sank my Babble-ship" So oooh, shit G, wa-wa or biscuit? Rip it and be specific doin it terrific when I kicks it Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang, Pepe LePew, Pepe LePew La Schmoove, yo I ain't got NUTTIN to prove! La Schmoove, yo we don't got nuttin to prove [x4] [Phife Dawg] Now here I go, once again, with the ill flow Other MC's that rap, their style is so-so Phife Dawg was never the type that ever lacked skills I just stay true to my roots and then I get ill Twenty years of age, but yet I still see KNOWLEDGE And this year, was so-called, my Senior year in COLLEGE But I chose to pursue, in a field called music And with some hype beats and breaks you know I won't refuse it Get on the board lay down the track and I'll do ten laps Pass the pen, pass the pad, and I'll kick nuff RAPS Just come inside your jam and witness who is boss And it won't be Tony Danza nor Diana Ross As small as I am, I still can pack jams Do a freestyle, and step, but yet I still slam Not tryin to say that no one can get with me Not only is it the lyrics I write, it's my delivery Name one rapper that you know who has this high-strung voice My name's Malik and I'm unique, in other words top choice Nothin commercial bout this, it's mainly hardcore Now that you got what you want, do you want more? (UHH!) Because I got more in store! La Schmoove, yo we don't got nuttin to prove [x4] [Moc Fu] MC, the Shining One, a.k.a. The Golden Child I have a grin at times, but then throw up a fake smile Vaseline Intensive Care, don't fear mon frere 'Cept I say, everybody that rappin, G pull his hair Back in the groove, it's no way you can handle this Shit so fly, that you can call it scandalous Cause I mani-fest in, words that I'm preachin Unleashin, you now seek the sounds that I'm teachin I hear NOT see NOT, knots to makes butts ROCK I rides rhythm to the beginnin, then won't stop The Chinese Son of Sam, the Skipper's Peter Pan The rootinest tootinest cowboy in the East Releasin, a new type of lyrical lingo Single, +The Alarm+, the girls cooties I will tingle No expiration date, so you know I won't EXPIRE No skippin a weekly check, so I don't have to RETIRE Write, the ca-pital, M.O. Chip Fu with the Kung-Fu givin shouts on my show Ir-regular styles is here too Tripped, boo-boo, you first made a mistake Not Alexander but considered to be Great Great, but, like the Grape Ape Fake, the moves, and your ankles I will break Break, or broken, the M.O., has spoken Movements on the slick, takin the train you need a token I guess not, cause you pause for the cause You either bitin your nails, or start pickin straws Holy Mick I'm livin large just like trunk jewels Nuff respects to many minds, Ah-OWWWWWWWWWWWEE! La Schmoove, yo we don't got nuttin to prove [x8] |
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Breakdown!
[Chorus] The flow will break you down Bet the flow will break you down I gets so busy on the mic with my rythmic flows That's bound to leave you bangin' when it gets exposed 'cause the way I could display my style is wicked So run up to your counters, and go and get your tickets I know you got dreams of roasting me hot But I got flavor like that candy in your grocery shop The dramatical, craft-matical, soul fanatic And nadic, with the crazy flow that's automatic Flowin' like them bolts from the sky like Zeus An old schooler, who drops mathematics like a ruler Or protractor, you don't have no nactor Hang with me, come with the steez and see I'm no actor That shit is real homes, psyches, so bring your own dice So we call roll, gonna lose, I'm takin' all your dough Punch you in your eye and come raid your town With the sound full of spunk as we break it down 'cause it's... [Chorus] Ah, ah, ah, ah-choo! What to do? timbuck-one, timbuck-two I can't see a t'ing like Mr. Magoo The sniveling, huh-huh-ha C-c-c-coughing, hah-choo! Stuffy, naughty, nappy Check-a the box, dreadlox fox So na, hic-up, na, hic-up What's up? tic-tic-tock, oops! Shiver me timber now boots Oh my gosh, oh my goose Shucks, yo now I huh, huh, hah, got the hic-ups And I rips up many tracks Jumpin' Johosafat Don't make a sound, I see you rabbit Tracks, like thunder and lightening Watch the frightening, can't you tell? I'm loco, ooh, they don't know very well, so I lumps 'em, bruise 'em, with black eyes and stitches They're mad, can we run >From rags unto riches Now my scruples, I lose 'em Damage, I bruise 'em I'm two-faced kid, so call me the ?? from ?? I got secrets, Bo, I don't know Like loco, I'm ??? I'm changing, visions blurry So call me, um, Quasemoto And yo, I'll switch up Hic-up! Switch up Hic-up! Switch up Hic-up! Switch-up Hah With or without the hic-ups, these emcess quickly pick up Then I freak my Fu-schnick styles to the microphone Yo, rip it And I freaks it Hic-up! Freaks it Hic-up! When I freaks it with my drunken technique I'm makin' pimps squeak But now it's whacker than the ??? Way up shits creek So don't sleep, when it's time to creep We roll my jeep And if the shit gets kind of thick, here comes the five sticks freak To break you down [Chorus] The funk makes me tipsy, got the whisky Yo, can this be the funkdafied horror Tommorrow I'll flip tip See, er, the blur in my eyes rectifies The funk freak me, so peep me, as I speak the grammer I rocks my bandanna, shave my head clean And on my screens than Vanna White How should I roll when I write? Then light the spliff, now it's time to recite A verse, a hurse you be leavin' in Beleive me when I say what I feel, and it's real, not like TV And science fiction, my addiction is the funk With more fumes than a skunk, 'cause I'm bound to jump So check the sound [Chorus] |
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Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye
(3x) Ring the alarm, I don't wanna stay calm cause I'm about to rip this psalm When the mic is gripped my lyrics do split up like Bombs from Vietnam Cause I'm sweet, neat, I don't romp or skinteet Lyrics I lick with my tongue And rhymes I nymn with my teeth This lyrical prophet you can't stop this from the West Indies You can tell I'm a lyrical prophet from the words spoken and broken up In these books and scrolls that I unfold The knowledge I use does make me bold The intelligence in my system Converts itself and becomes wisdom Born in Trinidad, not Tobogo, land of steel pan and calypso Cyop is a buck and a buck is a cyop That's the real true thing and a natural fact This lyrical man you can't hold me back From the red, the white, and also the black Island, which is my land, my place of birth You can tell by the tongue that's swung And the lyrical structure in me verse So all MC's don't cross this border Cause by now you should know sort of Lyrically wise but now I despise All youth that's out of order Don't try to test any of the Schnikens Cause I'm not done with the lyrical boxin' The beatin' and the lickin' Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye (3x) You two-facety, you can't face me And my rhymes you'll bite and learn Soon you'll acknowledge my lyrical substance just like a bookworm Chip FU, then you will extend and show all the youth them That me big boutcha under roots and culture And the bad bull in the pen Because when I grip the mic (yes, man) All MC's they do stop yes and hush Any mic I touch, any mic I brush, any mic I clutch With these lyrical styles of such And if I do unleash a lyrical masterpiece Lyrics never cease, then a piece I'll unleash and make it brief Please don't bite yes or thief C-H-I-P FU is my name, it will stay just the same Give me any mic on stage in a rage I'll engage And drop rhymes just the same Quote for quote, note for note, did you comphrehend So jack it up and pull it up operator Wheel and come again Cause MC's try these rastafarianic raps and sound like wanna-be's But a wanna-be's not what I want to be See the FU-Schnickens have to be The true prophets free Free to preach FU-Schnick prophecies We thee untouchable, matchable, stoppable MC's for unity Me, a rastafarian, no not me but I do stun I'm not faking Jamacian, so all MC's you better run Because Mr. Chip FU man a come And me sitdong pon de riddim sitdong pion de vibes A de hartical don True me full up a style and me wicked and wild With peer pattern watch how me chat it in a verb And capsize it in a noun Uno better give I and I respect When this Trinidadian I come Sing out Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye (3x) Phenomenon one, phenomenon two, phenomenon three Come follow me POC FU's the rough-neck chicken and I'm the wild Apache See I'm the C the H the I the P Down with the P the O the C, the K the U the N the G The M the O, yes and the C And when the M the I the C is in my H the A-N-D I preach and teach and educate all ghetto youth about unity But wait, let me get set not to sweat But to get something straight All MC's come out with good styles And all of them do sound great But ring the alarm and don't stay calm Because I won't procrastinate These lyrical styles that I compile To preach and teach and educate me A new jack brother (who's that) When you were at the parties rapping and scratching I did a chat On tape, on tape and cassette, you'll hear me live and direct Yes and who never hear me yet when you hear my voice it's perfect So just pack up because your lyrics are weak when you speak Don't step so just back up, wake up, take off the make-up The mic because I'll break up MC's limbs from limb, slim me trim You see me, I don't follow no style and I don't follow no pattern So take head to this lesson I bring or the lesson I brought Which was taught to one and another All slack MC's better ring the alarm In other words, run for cover |
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I don't wanna grow up cuz I'm a True Fuschnick
We got a million styles that we compile That we can play with I'm a True, what? I am a True Fushnick [x3] So sit, Buddah, sit what lyrical styles should we kick? I'm a rowdy roddy piper I flash my dread sherlock Holmes The thicker the richer the bigger the dread So I don't need no honeycomb So eeney, meeney, miney, mo good goobelly goo I bumped my toe Oh-oh, "oh-oh better get Maoco" chocolate Chip's about to flow The super the cola the fraja the listic expialadope Chip When the mic is gripped in ridobidobip bip da be bong de dang, Bo! Cuz worries and boderations when i raps it up again and again But not With the same FU style I'm wicked and wild and versatile When the mic is gripped by Chip you better believe it's worth your while Pause for the cause stop make way hurry up Here I come come come My lyrical styles are not to ifos nos in other words They're not soft son rocks it rigade raggamuffin say it backwards Aggarniffum so abra Fu alacazam run come follow me man Put it by one phenomenon huminahumina I'm not done Me-oh-me oh my hello hello hi I'm not Huckleberry Finn I'm still speaking, shoo, fly Don't bother i So Fe hello hifi Fu fo, i make shapes with Pay-dough re me Near far then I will stitch sew Lipton Tea bo Tae Kwon Do Lyrics are bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, Bubbling,bubbling,bubbling,bubbling,bubbling,bubbling,bubbling, Bubbling til' they're boiled So don't drink the milk, Why? Cause it's rotten in other words it's Spoiled So don't say drats, drats double or triple or quadruple drats Me big and me black and me hot up de spot G jumping Jehosphats Some mic's rhymes ain't saying jack nor Jill And of my styles they peak-a-boo o what I Doo wa diddy diddy dum diddy FU So peace to his FU, peace to the FU And a true FU, Poc Fu, is what I dub you I'm a True, what I am a True Fuschnick Repeat 3X So sit, Buddah, sit what lyrical styles should we kick? Rock n' roll, rock'n roll! What's up with hip-hop, reggae, let's kick some soul I'll be a braveman like Captain Caveman Unga bunga, yapple-daple Oh, snap! Holy batfu, it's an apple The capital P.O.C. is on a fliptop so hip, hip hooray Move out my way Check out what I cockadoodle doo See it's true I needed psychiatric help When I was small I had "Poc-Fu" on my nameplate belt Then at last suffering succotash I waste no more time Used my noodle yankee doodle came up with a rhyme That was wild, bugged, delirious, looney Damn! it's hittin' hard That's word to Jerry Cooney Knocking heads off shoulders rippin' em clean You can even ask iddy (why?) he know what I mean Cuz I'm a I'm a True, what? I am a True Fuschnick [x3] So sit, Buddah sit what lyrical styles should we kick? Moc's on wax grip, this ain't no demo Don't even try to flex or uck-fay with my Mental contender, Apollo Time for training, jack Agenda. The M.O. also the Asian Mack In fact I will attract, shock shit, a True Fuschnick Classified as I crop to the crip Not a gimmick to the limit, upset, confused, You gotta want From the excess food called waste But a taste of oriental True Fu No haste as I pace Gogoo gogoo, nanoo-nanoo Styles that'll have you becomin' a Fuschnick too Psyche! Wait a minute, you thought that I was finished Beginnin' in a hum endin' in a beat drum Beat? You like it, it's comin' from the Tribe, side by side Third stage is the Moc Unifying lyrics until my tongue drops Considered as an mc klepto Techniques could be beat, you think so? Hell, no! Romp and rage upon the scene like a lyrical Ninja master Crazy zany voiced out styles That had ya in a dimension as I mentioned A True Fu steppin' All attention to the Micken Styles that I am kickin', whippin', flexin, never flippin Asian that is hittin' hard until my cup runneth over Like a boulder never told ya The M.O. was in control of Oriental styles to compile or get with Fiend as I hold the mic with a tight grip Slipped! Ha, ha, ha! That's what you get when you mess around with a True Fuschnick I'm a True, what? I am a True Fuschnick [x3] So sit, Buddah, sit what lyrical styles should we kick |
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Check the flow clear the way yo
Here come the bro I'm kickin it I know ya Diggin it the way we swinging it son the Bossman kickin' my shit wit bass o please Ya wanna battle whomy shit is still ill Ill murderize you so what ya gonna do Get ya ass chopped in two fuckin wit the FU Bran ya and I swing just like Evander Real deal and ruff so when ya feeling tuff Come on kids come on kids brint it! 6 foot 4 with the strength of Sampson Running over niggars like I'm Rodney Hampton Say adios when I start to roast Making most of the mic in my hand Freak it spooky like a ghost cause Sum dum monkey bumped his head on [x3] Ooh watch out here comes the lyrical blabber Mouth I'll blow ya (hmph) blow ya (hmph) lalala Lights (unknown) my rhymes to keep cool spit out Yes and (drool) I'm out of my mind when I rhyme I snaps with our no wa wa wa warning so (cough) Wake up shape up and stop Not Alfalfa or Spanky not a damn Yankee Doodle I flip the (hole) script the (hole) kit and kaboodle Got oodles of tactics gimme the mic dagnabit and Come back here bunny rabbit, ah phooey, now its Time to get bitz so ba ba ba batten down the hatches Yep and raise the drawbridge i gots to freak I gots to freak right (now) Brothers wonder (how) I (cough) freaks the (cough) styles to Raise eye (brows) I'm rolling in dollars when I Scream and hallars ay arriba, epa andale andale Like speedy gonzalez so acknowledge the hum Dinger wacky rhyme slinger when I yells tim (ehehe) Tim (ehehe) tim (BBB) ber. Ba hum Bug its time to let the style out the hatch-out the Hatch-out the hatch-out the hatch- ahh I know I Had ya souped cuz ya thought the record scratched I got skillz no question don't try to test When I flex em bang em zoom to the moon I make You meet George Jetson. I'm comin around the mountain (na say it again) a'ight (cool) I'm comin around the mountain trottin' around B-b-b bend I clear my f-f-f (cough) pardon me f-f-f (Cough) pardon me (cough) phlegm so deep it I freak it by the movement of my lips and I gangbang Or beats like the bloods and crips. Cause Sum dum monkey bumped his head on [x3] |
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