|
Look into the rhyme |
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Rum to the ripple |
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Sing boo, |
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But at times I come in triple. |
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Blaow, blaow put the heater to your head |
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Now your dead. |
|
Wyclef don't give a *beep* if your dead. |
|
Raaaaah, raaaah |
|
Let me attack just like the black cat |
|
You in the wrong neighborhood, check the map. |
|
Hooo, you've got to go for backup |
|
To do what you gotta do. |
|
So you'll be back with France CU |
|
Traitor in your crew is mafo heat |
|
Put the poison in your tea |
|
and kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede |
|
I'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo |
|
Awoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what. |
|
Competition, stimulation for the rap man |
|
Losers check your tooters |
|
While I'm suckin' on your girls hooters. |
|
Don't play macho, while you got the gun |
|
Cause if you got to reload . . . |
|
[CLEF] |
|
Wyclef the multi-talented |
|
Average heads can't handle it |
|
I'll bring it to you live |
|
Only if you want it. |
|
Me and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's |
|
[C'mon check out my melody] |
|
The W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef |
|
Through any contest |
|
I'm victorious |
|
Still keep it real, if you will and manifest |
|
Through your skills, not by how many shells you peel. |
|
[PRAZ] |
|
I'm a bring down the ruckus |
|
Play the nutcracker |
|
Rough-neck rednecks make me no bother |
|
Time after time, ask Cyndi Lauper, |
|
Boss, you don't want to fuck with my partners |
|
Motion, commotion, what's your proposal |
|
Uphold two-fold, the crew is disposal |
|
Like utensil, false idental, |
|
I autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil |
|
[LAURYN] |
|
I'm the L, Won't you pull it |
|
Straight to the head |
|
With the speed of a bullet |
|
Cuttin' jokers off at the meeky-freeky gullet |
|
Lyrical sedative, keep niggas medative |
|
Head rushers I give to creative kids and fiends |
|
Dreams of euphoria, |
|
Aurora, |
|
To another galaxy |
|
Phallic-sy |
|
Be this microphone, but get lifted |
|
Lyrically I'm gifted |
|
Burn on in without the roach clip (it) |
|
Henders, mind-bender |
|
Pleasure sender, |
|
So frequently your nerve endings belong to me |
|
Wrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke |
|
Wack niggas choke |
|
>From the fumes that I emote, |
|
Or emit shit |
|
See even I feel the mahogany L |
|
Natural hallucinogen |
|
Turning boys to men again |
|
With estrogen dreams |
|
Release blues, yellows and greens |
|
>From Brownsville to Queens |
|
[DIAMOND-D] |
|
I creep like a theif, no doubt the man's swift |
|
I'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff |
|
You stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff |
|
[We know where to run] |
|
And start flakin' like dandruff. |
|
C'mon son my steelo's tight |
|
Cause by far I'm the best producer on the mic |
|
On the right, analytical conceptions |
|
With precision and leave lyrical incisions. |
