De La Soul - Afro Connections at a Hi 5 lyrics

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De La Soul - Afro Connections at a Hi 5 lyrics

Connection A, click, what? My dick, chick I smack a fish if you thinks My connection ain't thick, dick Headed like a punk whip I travel miles with a rhythmic lip I rock an Afro In '83, gee, yo And spray the sheen so I get a Soul Glow I play the corner tough And me and Mase pull puffs on a blunt Givin' high-five is what I want So I puff a blunt, I don't front I get spliffed, get a stiff Then I go hump a stunt Like a pimp pro (Nah, man, a super ho) That's cool cause I'm still an Afro bro Yeah, I'm live for my life is hectic Every hour, every minute, every second I keep a level head and stay down to earth Cause I've been an Afro since birth Yeah Now I hold my crotch cause I'm top-notch I run amok Sasquatch, and I like to eat live crab I've got five beepers, you scab But you can find me directly on the Ave (You n***as cheat me, well who's that!) My breath never smells wack I eat the watermelon Tic-Tac Before I kiss myself I always jump back (Yo, gee, this track is stack) (And you know that) I do three flips When a punk flip on my duke lifts But I flex more strength when I'm asleep On the other side with his main tapes Make her dry her face, buy her gold earlocks But I may, she flocks round me like a donut She got sprinkles but I bite my way out More brothers come about, try to scheme slick But the Native Tongue's thick Lick 'em real good, like a real hood should But the fly tape let the car speakers shake I ran a cop down, I smile a frown with a but Show gold teeth, cause I ain't a vegetarian Not scared of beef, sport a feather like Chief Got a scribble pad, you can get these gonads Cause I'm big-willed, blow off like a seal Cause connection with the Afro is real I be the gift of gab, but be a bro with a diss Because it's tough to bluff a cab No wonder Melle Mel is 'Rrrr-RAH!' I play of tape of the son of La-di-da My cousin Rilo sells blow, a G a day Keeps his kids hooray, a size nine and half I kicks my tricks, is to live for Island I mug a mug vic, but I's cool, I self With the quickness I bust the true slang Show no pit to those who don't understand The Maseo got tailed with the big bail I busted loose but now the blue goose is on my tail I seen the ghetto go lower than it is (He don't care, cause his n***a's selling crack to the kids) My jeans are brand new, with twelve more In the closet with my silk, and below My 45 pack thick, draw quick If a n***a starts some shibidibidit My crib is uptown, downtown, L.I And another crib in Queens I munch some cornbread, Boar's Head My favorite pork chops and A plate of collar greens I chill with Shymel, Akeem, Jaheed And the Rastafarians'll be the crown in And the Poppa But the connections are still a high-five (Let's get busy)