- Lyrics
- Album list
- Singer Intro
A Tribe Called Quest
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Oh My God (UK Flavour radio mix)
Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God
Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God
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 harlot sounds
Now when I say the harlot, 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 number seven pick
Licks, licks, licks, boy pon your backside Licks, licks, licks, boy pon your backside Listen to the fader, Shaheed let's it glide Tip the earthly body, heaven's on my side
Even in Santo Domingo, man I gotta Gringo Yo, we got mics, when do we go? Know a little nigga who can rhyme when you ask me Short, dark, plus his voice is raspy
One for the treble, two for the bass You know my 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 one, two, three The answer, big up is who I who Brothas find this hard to do but never me
Some brothas try to dis Malik, you see'm catchin' me And I care 'bout them booty MCs, my shit be hittin' Trainin' gladiator, anti-hesitater Shaheed push the fader from here to Granada Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com Mister Energetic, who me, sound pathetic? When's the last time you heard a funky diabetic?
I don't know man, I don't know man I don't know man, I don't know, I don't know
Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God
Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God Oh, my God, oh, my God
Complimentary, 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 love the way it's goin' down
Down like the lady of the evenin' And when it goes in, honey, just believe the sin 'Cuz Queens is the county, Jamaica is the place 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 Aiyo, 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
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