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Chorus:
We can get down
We can, we can get down(both lines 4x)
Ah, its like that man, its like that (yes!)
Its like that man, its like that (yes!) (2x)
Its like that man, its like that
(rakim from my melody:why waste time on the microphone)
Check it

Phife:
Im not your average mc with the joe schmoe flow
If you dont know me by now, youll never know
Steppin on my critics, beatin on my foes
The plan is to stay focused, only then I can go
Straight from the heart, I represent hip hop
I be three albums deep, but I dont wanna go pop
Too many candy rappers seem to be at the top
Too much candy is no good, so now Im closin the shop
Crushin competition like your tires on grapes
My rhymes styles be blendin like a ron g tape
My man where ya goin? you cant escape
When the tribe is in the house, that means nobody is safe
How can a reverend preach, when a rev cant define
The music of our youth from 1979
We rap about what we see, meaning reality
>from people bustin caps and like mandela bein free
Not every mc be with the negativity
We have a slew of rappers pushin positivity
Hip hop will never die yo, its all about the rap
So marion barry smokin crack, lets preach about that
The trash you talk wont matter, that old bogus chatter
The more that you condemn us, it only makes us phatter
When I talk, I know Im talkin for you poppers all around
You know you love the sound, we gets down

Chorus:

Q-tip:
Im the cherry on the top of yo ice cream
Im the wish you thought inside your dream
Listen to the way we pulsate the jam
Im 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
Devoted to your lover and make it thrive
The riff was of f, Im a hip hop body
Release the energy like the force of a shotty
Standin on the wall with my polo on
Talkin to the girl with the liz claiborne
Keep the poetry in my black knapsack
Got my timbo horse 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 grain weed
Now, Im doin shows with half loot down
Now its time for me to take ya uptown

Its like that man, its like that (yes!) (7x)
Its like this, shaheed!

Shaheed:(scratching)(until end)
Rakim: why waste time on the microphone

Q-Tip]
Uhhhhhhhh…
The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away
but not Hip-Hop yo, hahah
And let it be known.. that we are on some umm..
ehh ahh, uhh, a-chicka-uhh
ehh ahh, uhh, a-chicka-uhh
And this ain’t on the pop tip yo!
Are y’all kids tucked in? (Yeah!!)
Here we go..

People in the audience, they cry out “hoe”
People with a gun, yo they’ll cry out “bo!”
I don’t like a cop, I don’t sell a rock
but still the kanga’s clock me, after a show
Standin on the stage and we’re pourin with sweat
To people in the crowd I give what they get
Papers make paid, babies make laid
I don’t really worry, nor do I fret
Waitin for the gimme and boy I got some
Sweat like a peach and tart like a plum
I thought what I think, I rock a bead-link
Legally I’ll sip when I turn, twenty-one
A letter to the homeboy that freaked the head dome
The R man wants me to drop my microphone
Gotta be brief; no orders from a chief
Hot butter on what, say what, the popcorn
On the tour bus we hit the truck stop
A dollar for some chips, a quarter for some pop
We laugh and giggle some, Phife kiss the honeybuns
Ali Shaheed Muhammad keeps talkin that shop
The brothers cruise on as we Quest, for the check
Callin up Famous to see, if it’s there yet
Not a bourgeoise, hate the seminar
Ignorant flip, hey Miss you must jet
Flex for the funkiest but start to bounce
Measure Hip-Hop for weight, by the ounce
Bush on the tush, you’re pullin while I push
Play me for the punk then puss, feel the pounce

It’s like that y’all.. (keep onnnnnnn)
Freak freak y’all… (keep, onnnnnnnn)
It’s like that y’all.. (keep onnnnnnn)
Freak freak y’all… (keep, onnnnnnnn)
It’s like that y’all.. (keep onnnnnnn)
Freak freak y’all… (keep, onnnnnnnn)
It’s like that y’all.. (keep onnnnnnn)
Freak freak y’all… (keep, onnnnnnnn)

If the papes come yo yo I won’t riff
I just sit down and get, me a spliff
With mines I was born, a child of the corn
Molecules of the land they uplift
Levels is straight, in fact they’re rectified
Adrenaline now is crazy multiplied
Four and four is eight, the fraction makes the plate
I make sure the Tribe is innnnnnnn..
With the quickness you bare the witness
Flexin and pumpin with the fitness
Movin it - UHH, doin it - UHH
Those who oppose must hit the ??s-list??
Doin it and doin it with the whole frame
Look what’s in the mind and not, in the brain
On this you can quote, we on a diffy note
Quest for the future, ’stead of the fame
One ninety-one brothers grabbin they thingies
Forgot the name; oh, equivalent to Jimmy
Slip a little bit, you think I have to quit
Ali Shaheed Muhammad, with the singy-singy
Slammin with a slammy you front, on the case
Right or left nut Ali, plays the ace
Do what you do, flam for a crew
Bonita Applebum blows smoke in Sha’s face
Slang for the ?? I must, if ya have
Dribble hops out giggle yo proper term is laugh
Brothers who are snakes, I label them as fakes
Instincts to Travel up the hood path, c’mon

It’s like that y’all.. (keep onnnnnnn)
Freak freak y’all… (keep, onnnnnnnn)
It’s like that y’all.. (keep onnnnnnn)
It’s like that y’all.. (keep onnnnnnn)
It’s like that y’all.. (keep onnnnnnn)
Freak freak y’all… (keep, onnnnnnnn)
It’s like that y’all.. (keep onnnnnnn)
Freak freak y’all… (keep, onnnnnnnn)

{Thank you..
as you all know, you just can’t believe
everything you see and hear, can you??
Now if you will excuse me
I must be on my way..}

Intro/Chorus
We got the jazz [X4]
Verse One: Q-Tip
Stern firm and young with a laid-back tongue
The aim is to succeed and achieve at 21
Just like Ringling Brothers, I’ll daze and astound
Captivate the mass, cause the prose is profound
Do it for the strong, we do it for the meek
Boom it in your boom it in your boom it in your Jeep
Or your Honda or your Beemer or your Legend or your Benz
The rave of the town to your foes and your friends
So push it, along, trails, we blaze
Don’t deserve the gong, don’t deserve the praise
The tranquility will make ya unball your fist
For we put hip-hop on a brand new twist
A brand new twist with the homie-alistic
So low-key that ya probably missed it
And yet it’s so loud that it stands in the crowd
When the guy takes the beat, they bowed
So raise up squire, address your attire
We have no time to wallow in the mire
If you’re on a foreign path, then let me do the lead
Join in the essence of the cool-out breed
Then cool out to the music cuz it makes ya feel serene
Like the birds and the bees and all those groovy things
Like getting stomach aches when ya gotta go to work
Or staring into space when you’re feeling berserk
I don’t really mind if it’s over your head
Cuz the job of resurrectors is to wake up the dead
So pay attention, it’s not hard to decipher
And after the horns, you can check out the Phifer
Chorus
Verse Two: Phife Dawg
Competition, dem Phifer come sideway
But competition, dey mus’ me come straightway
Competition, dem Phifer come sideway
But competition, dey mus’ come straightway
Hows about that, it seems like it’s my turn again
All through the years my mike has been my best friend
I know some brothers wonder, can Phifer really kick it?
Some even wanna dis me, but why sweat it?
I’m all into my music cuz it’s how I make papes
Tryin’ to make hits, like Kid Capri makes tapes
Me sweat another? I do my own thing
Strictly hardcore tracks, not a new jack swing
I grew up as a Christian so to Jah I give thanks
Collect my banks, listen to Shabba Ranks
I sing, and chat, I do all of that
It’s 1991 and I refuse to come wack
I take off my hat to other crews that intend to rock
But the Low End Theory’s here, it’s time to wreck shop
I got Tip and Shah, so whom shall I fear
Stop look and listen, but please don’t stare
So jet to the store, and buy the LP
On Jive/RCA, cassettes and CD’s
Produced and arranged by the four-man crew
And oh shit, Skiff Anselm, he gets props too
Make sure you have a system with some phat house speakers
So the new shit can rock, from Mars to Massapequa
Cuz where I come from quality is job one
And everybody up on Linden know we get the job done
So peace to that crew, and peace to this crew
Bring on the tour, we’ll see you at a theatre nearest you
Verse Three: Q-Tip
Hey yo but wait, back it up, hup, easy back it up
Please let the Abstract embellish on the cut
Back and forth just like a Cameo song
If you dig this joint then please come dance along
To the music cuz it’s done just for the rhyme
Now I gotta scat and get mine, underline
The jazz, the what? The jazz can move that ass
Cuz the Tribe originates that feelin’ of pizzazz
It’s the universal sound, best to brothers underground
In the one-six below, ya didn’t have to go
Some say that I’m a sinner cuz I once had an orgy
And sometimes for breakfast I eat grits and porgies
If this is a stinker, then call me a stink, I ask
What? What? What? - now check it out
All my peoples in Queens ya don’t stop
Now all my peoples in Brooklyn ya don’t stop
And all my peoples uptown ya don’t stop
That includes the Bronx a’ Harlem ya don’t stop
Now to that girl Ramelle ya don’t stop
I say because Ladies First ya don’t stop
And to the JB’s, ya don’t stop
And De La Soul, ya don’t stop
To my Brand Nubians ya don’t stop
And to my Leaders of the New ya don’t stop
To my man Large Professor ya don’t stop
Pete Rock for the beat ya don’t stop
Everybody in the place ya don’t stop
Ya keep it on, to the rhythm, ya don’t stop
And last but not least on the sure shot
It’s the Zulu nation

My mother went away for a month-long trip
Her and some friends on an ocean-liner ship
She made a big mistake by leaving me home
I had to roam so I picked up the phone
Dialed Ali up to see what was going down
Told him I pick him up so we could drive around
Took the Dodge Dart, a ‘74
My mother left a yard but I needed one more
Shaheed had me covered with a hundred greenbacks
So we left Brooklyn and we made big tracks
drove down the Belt, got on the Conduit
Came to a toll, we paid and went through it
Had no destination, we was on a quest
Ali laid in the back so he could get rest
Drove down the road for two-days-and-a-half
The sun had just risen on a dusty path
Just then a figure had caught my eye
A man with a sombrero who was four feet high
I pulled over to ask were we was at
His index finger he tipped up his hat
“El Segundo,” he said, “my name is Pedro
If you need directions, I’ll tell you pronto”
Needed civilization, some sort of reservation
He said a mile south, there’s a fast food station
Thanks, senor, as I start up the motor
Ali said, “Damn, Tip, why you drive so far for?”

(Well describe to me what the wallet looks like)

Anyway a gas station we passed
We got gas and went on to get grub
It was a nice little pub in the middle of nowhere
Anywhere would have been better
I ordered enchiladas and I ate ‘em
Ali had the fruit punch
When we finished we thought for ways to get back
I had a hunch
Ali said, “Pay for lunch”
So I did it
Pulled out the wallet and I saw this wicked beautiful lady
She was a waitress there
Put the wallet down and stared and stared
To put me back into reality, here’s Shaheed:
“Yo, Tip, man, you got what you need?”
I checked for keys and started to step
What do you know, my wallet I forget

Yo, it was a brown wallet, it had props numbers
Had my jimmy hats I got to get it man

Lord, have mercy
The heat got hotter, Ali stars to curse me
I fell bad but he makes me feel bad-er
Chit-chit-chatter, car stars to scatter
Breaking on out, we was Northeast bound
Jettin’ on down at the speed of sound
Three days coming and three more going
We get back and there was no slack
490 Madison, we’re here, Sha
He said, “All right, Tip, see you tomorrow”
Thinking about the past week, the last week
Hands go in my pocket, I can’t speak
Hopped in the car and torpe’ed to the shack
Of Shaheed, “We gotta go back” when he said
“Why?” I said, “We gotta go
‘Cause I left my wallet in El Segundo”

Yeah, I left my wallet in El Segundo
Left my wallet in El Segundo
Left my wallet in El Segundo
I gotta get, I got-got ta get it

[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)

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 jump 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

(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

[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!

[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 tayo
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 (uh)
Winners turn to losers, losers are forgotten
Tangle in my fore with, hopes that I 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

Honey, check it out, you got me mesmerized
With your black hair and fat-ass thighs
Street poetry is my everyday
But yo, I gotta stop when you trot my way
If I was workin at the club you would not pay
Aiyyo, my man phife diggy, he got somthin to say

I like em brown, yellow, puero rican or hatian
Name is phife dawg from the zulu nation
Told you in the jam that we can get down
Now lets knock the boots like the group h-town
You got bbd all on your bedroom wall
But Im above the rim and this is how I ball
A pretty little somethin on the new york street
This is how I represent over this here beat
Talkin bout you

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 couldnt drop dimes cause *you couldnt relate*

Chorus

Verse two: q-tip, phife dawg

Stretch out your legs, let me make you bawl
Drive you insane, drive you up the wall
Starin 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 putang until it stinks
You can be my mama and Ill be your boy

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 madeline woods
By the way, my names malik
The five-foot freak
Lets say we get together by the end of the week
She simply said, no, labelled me a hoe
I said, how you figure? my friends told me so.
I hate when silly groupies wanna run they yap
Word to god, hon, I dont get down like that

Ill 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 in the down, yo, we keep it discrete
See, Im not the type to kid to have my biz in the streets

If my mom dont approve, then Ill just elope
Let me sink the little man from inside the boat
Let me hit it from the back, girl I wont catch a hernia
Bust off on your couch, now you got semens furniture

Shaheed, phife and the extra p
Stacy, ? dj 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 lovin and *it aint nuthin nice*

Chorus:
Now you caught my heart for the evening
Kissed my cheek, moved in, you confuse things
Should I just sit out or come harder?
Help me find my way

Q-Tip:
Messing me up, my whole head
Teasing me, just like Tisha, did Martin
Now look at what you’re starting
Schoolboy’s crush and it ain’t on the hush
The whole world sees it but you can’t (uh)
My peoples they complain, sit and rave and rant (come on)
Your name is out my mouth like an ancient chant (say what?)
Got me like a dog as I pause and pant…

Phife:
Speaking of which, got a leash and I wish just to rock you miss (come on)
Make a militant move, peep my strategy (what?)
End of the day you’re not mad at me (uh)
Not dealing with nobody, now that’s what you told me (what?)
I said: “hey yo, it’s cool, we can just be friendly” (come on)
‘Cause yo, picture me messing it up
Her mind not corrupt with the ill C-Cups
Shit, I’m on my J.O. (come on)
Bullshitting, hoping that the day goes slow (what?)
Got me like a friend, what confuses me though
Is kisses when we greet, tell me what’s the dill yo? (dill yo, yo, yo…)

Chorus (2x)

Q-Tip:
Now why you wanna go and do that, love, huh?
Making things for me towards you harder
Killing me, just when I think we’re there
You got the whole vibe and the flows in the air
Telling me ’bout next man
But next man ain’t the nigga with the plan
Who got your heart in mind?
It’s about time that you just unwind (come on)

Phife:
And let it just happen, make it front-free (uh)
Just sweat me like Moneypenny (uh)
Digging you, getting inside of your stee (what?)
It’s the Quest that keeping you company
Forever, or however you want it

Q-Tip:
Word word, now wait a minute now before you jet it to the curb (yeah, yeah)
Start to make affections, which is good not the hurt
But it, it aint me, and I, I ain’t blurred (uh)
I’ma still just chill with you
Maybe things could change if you change your view (come on)
If not then I guess it is cool (yeah)
just, to keep to yourself and adbide by the rules, right

check it out now…
check it out now…
like that now…
check it out now…
wha wha now…
check it out now…
yeah yeah now…
check it out now…
check it out now…
it’s like that now…
check it out now…
yeah yeah now…
check it out now…
what you say, what? what?

Chorus till fade out

Chorus Q-Tip:
Oh My God (16X)

Q-Tip:
Listen up everybody the bottom line
I’m a black intellect, but unrefined
With precision like a bullet, target bound
Just livin like a hooker, the harlett sounds
Now when I say the harlett, you know I mean the hot
Heat in the equator, the brothers in the pot
Jalick, Jalick ya wind up ya hip
Draftin of the poets, I’m the #7 pick
Licks, licks, licks boy on your backside
Licks, licks, licks boy on your backside
Listen to the fader, Shaheed lets it glide
Tip the earthly body
Heaven’s on my side
Even in Santo Domingo
Can I gotta Gringo
Yo, we got mics, when do we go?
Know a little nigga who can ryhme when you ask me
Short, dark, and plus his voice is raspy

Phife
1 for the treble, 2 for the bass
You know the style Tip, now watch me rip this
I like my beats harder than two day old shit
Steady eatin 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 TLC
Now the formula is this…Me, Tip, and Ali
For those who can’t count it goes 1-2-3
The answer…big up is how I be
Brothas find it’s hard to do, but never me
Some brothas try to dis Malik
You see’m catchin me
Don’t worry about them booty MCs, my shit be hittin
Trainin gladiator, anti-hesitator
Shaheed push the fader from here to Granada
Mister energetic
Who me, sound pathetic?
When’s the last time you heard a funky diabetic?
I don’t know man(3x)
I don’t know(2x)

Chorus:

Q-Tip
Complimentary it be
The thief of Poetry
I got a humdinger comin hook, line and sinker
The TIMBO hits with the prints underground
TIMBO’s on the toes, i like the way it’s goin down
Down like the lady of the evenin
When it goes in hun just beleive the sin
Cuz Queens is the county, Jamaica is the place
(Phife: Take off your boots cuz you can’t run the race)
See, this is how we do when we keep it on and on
Do what…
Got my man Big Mo with the streets and the papes
My man Big Mo with the streets and caprice
This is how we do when we keep the wildin sheets
Cuz we got to do it like this, we aim to please
See ya next LP and next CD and next cassette
Yo, we about to jet
We A Tribe Called Quest and we the Midnight Marauders
Tribe Called Quest and we the Midnight Marauders
See ya next time cuz we the Midnight Marauders
A yo, we out cuz we the Midnight Marauders
Go to the record store and get the shit
We work hard
We A Tribe Called Quest and we the Midnight Marauders
Queens got it’s own and Brooklyn got it’s own
Like that