A Tribe Called Quest - Sh. Fe. MC's lyrics

We are here to tell the world just who we are Shocking female (MC's), shocking female (MC's) (Repeat 2x) Verse 1: Phife No need for, introductions, cause I know you know my name and Knocking MC's out the frame and, putting them s**ers to shame and I live for hip-hop, so I have no time for fun and games and So just come and peep the unique styles we are displaying The beat's just ridiculous, the lyrics articulate Feels good, as if a girl just touched her cli*oris s**er MC's, I'm k**ing 'em, I'm so sick of seeing 'em Silly (sh**) when they rhyme, like that red rugby shirt worn by Gilligan Plus the hat, they (sh**) is wack When you see me coming take ten steps back I make usage of the pronouns, adjectives, verbs My granny says "You always had a way with words" And that's because my word is bond, lyrics are laws s**er MC's look at me like I'm friggin' eye sore Verse 2: Posdnuos Heere comes a brother hipping others on the style they lack I've always rhymed abstract, I even know the brother named Abstract I am the earner of the soul in mine Forget the physical cause the physical will die with time I'm shaped to vibrate indefinite proportions Of the kids who need the fix (Just listen to the mix) I got the knowledge constant non-stop for the rubbishing Like (n***as) using Clinton loops as if they owned the publishing Gums be bleeding from illegal feeding on my verb I bring the Mardi Gras to your face I outwit vipers in my rhyme cipher I can easily lick them cause they're victims of the subconscious race Tossing periods in front of foes reps It's not the 187 when the 360 slept You swallow the cake from the plate of elevate Or you might get sparked by the crew who got the weight So resuscitating rap like the hicks do with Presley It's the kid who peeled the jeans in Orleans off of Leslie Sh. Fe. MC number nine, if you let me rhyme nine times infinitely I will climb I let my Walkman from Sony play ca**ettes from Raboni Which guarantees to put me on the narrow road Ayo, that's it from me, Plug 3, and Ali explode! Verse 3: Q-Tip When I rhyme, the effect just ripples You sound sick, I hope your cells get sickles And formulate into real stiff (sh**) Then I bet that (n***as) cut the chit chit Cause the Ab will, be sharper than a Ginsu Cutter or your bum (a**) head for the gutter This is not a game and we ain't looking for the fame That's not the aim, we came to rip the jam out the frame My inter-reaction with paper is amazing So needless to say mad trails are left blazing A whole lot of bull(sh**) rhymes start to get play But I'm here to say that real rhymes do pay I'm the type of brother that writes until my knuckles get nary And through the domepiece, the rhymes will carry Then transported to my throat then the quotes hit the air As I stand dipped with the wares Rhymes get slot times, move back from the jack It's the verbal constructor, some MC's is wack I make a girl do the bogle, doo doo brown and all Make (n***as) jump up, drink Dom, and have a ball I ainimate the unlively with the verbal combat The Abstract, never the wack Motivator of the many like Moses Moving through, bringing danger to the dummies that poses That means you, the sub relator of the sub culture Like a vulture I swoop down on crowns, cause confusion all around Mental burdens I bring to MC's who sing They sad songs, money, your dough's not long Mines on the other hand is lengthy type The Abstract gets real, real, real Verse 4: Dove Real down to Earth I hit the Long Island Rail You never see me tango with the horn and the tail I got the kit for your mind I design it like Zender Smoking mad hope from my neighbors, and da 50/50 luck takes the "S" off my chest Cause the "S" on my chest makes a mess Settling for Superman, stupid man, put on your gla**es Now your a**es be slow ga**in' like mola**es Continue the menu, next on the platter Hey where that (b**h) at? (He's right here boy!) I gotta see what I got and who I'm getting it with This ain't no nickel dime game that I'm peddling with Mikie Rose said "Stop riding, it be dividing Taking me out how I be vibing" n***as actin' hard like gristle But my pops got the pistol Told me if I ever need it just *whistle* Respects to Griff Dog for the razor Much respects to Joe Buck for the flavor It's about a million brothers trying to be MC's in this world I'm glad I got a baby girl