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Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye |
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(3x) |
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Ring the alarm, I don't wanna stay calm cause |
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I'm about to rip this psalm |
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When the mic is gripped my lyrics do split up like |
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Bombs from Vietnam |
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Cause I'm sweet, neat, I don't romp or skinteet |
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Lyrics I lick with my tongue |
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And rhymes I nymn with my teeth |
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This lyrical prophet you can't stop this from the West Indies |
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You can tell I'm a lyrical prophet from the words spoken and broken up |
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In these books and scrolls that I unfold |
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The knowledge I use does make me bold |
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The intelligence in my system |
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Converts itself and becomes wisdom |
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Born in Trinidad, not Tobogo, land of steel pan and calypso |
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Cyop is a buck and a buck is a cyop |
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That's the real true thing and a natural fact |
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This lyrical man you can't hold me back |
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From the red, the white, and also the black |
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Island, which is my land, my place of birth |
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You can tell by the tongue that's swung |
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And the lyrical structure in me verse |
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So all MC's don't cross this border |
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Cause by now you should know sort of |
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Lyrically wise but now I despise |
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All youth that's out of order |
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Don't try to test any of the Schnikens |
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Cause I'm not done with the lyrical boxin' |
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The beatin' and the lickin' |
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Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye |
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(3x) |
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You two-facety, you can't face me |
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And my rhymes you'll bite and learn |
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Soon you'll acknowledge my lyrical substance just like a bookworm |
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Chip FU, then you will extend and show all the youth them |
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That me big boutcha under roots and culture |
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And the bad bull in the pen |
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Because when I grip the mic (yes, man) |
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All MC's they do stop yes and hush |
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Any mic I touch, any mic I brush, any mic I clutch |
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With these lyrical styles of such |
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And if I do unleash a lyrical masterpiece |
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Lyrics never cease, then a piece I'll unleash and make it brief |
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Please don't bite yes or thief |
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C-H-I-P FU is my name, it will stay just the same |
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Give me any mic on stage in a rage I'll engage |
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And drop rhymes just the same |
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Quote for quote, note for note, did you comphrehend |
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So jack it up and pull it up operator |
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Wheel and come again |
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Cause MC's try these rastafarianic raps and sound like wanna-be's |
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But a wanna-be's not what I want to be |
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See the FU-Schnickens have to be |
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The true prophets free |
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Free to preach FU-Schnick prophecies |
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We thee untouchable, matchable, stoppable MC's for unity |
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Me, a rastafarian, no not me but I do stun |
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I'm not faking Jamacian, so all MC's you better run |
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Because Mr. Chip FU man a come |
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And me sitdong pon de riddim sitdong pion de vibes |
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A de hartical don |
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True me full up a style and me wicked and wild |
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With peer pattern watch how me chat it in a verb |
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And capsize it in a noun |
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Uno better give I and I respect |
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When this Trinidadian I come |
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Sing out |
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Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye |
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(3x) |
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Phenomenon one, phenomenon two, phenomenon three |
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Come follow me |
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POC FU's the rough-neck chicken and I'm the wild Apache |
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See I'm the C the H the I the P |
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Down with the P the O the C, the K the U the N the G |
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The M the O, yes and the C |
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And when the M the I the C is in my H the A-N-D |
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I preach and teach and educate all ghetto youth about unity |
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But wait, let me get set not to sweat |
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But to get something straight |
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All MC's come out with good styles |
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And all of them do sound great |
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But ring the alarm and don't stay calm |
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Because I won't procrastinate |
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These lyrical styles that I compile |
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To preach and teach and educate me |
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A new jack brother (who's that) |
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When you were at the parties rapping and scratching I did a chat |
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On tape, on tape and cassette, you'll hear me live and direct |
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Yes and who never hear me yet when you hear my voice it's perfect |
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So just pack up because your lyrics are weak when you speak |
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Don't step so just back up, wake up, take off the make-up |
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The mic because I'll break up |
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MC's limbs from limb, slim me trim |
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You see me, I don't follow no style and I don't follow no pattern |
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So take head to this lesson I bring or the lesson I brought |
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Which was taught to one and another |
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All slack MC's better ring the alarm |
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In other words, run for cover |
