| Lateef! | |
| [Lyrics Born] | |
| And Lyrics Born | |
| [together] | |
| You can't see them! | |
| [Lateef] | |
| One way - a mircophone works | |
| Checkin' suckas on the usage of vocal tones | |
| While the breaks be bangin' | |
| Cold shakin' ya homes | |
| Vibrations reverberatin give identification | |
| In meter Neter like Metu | |
| Leavin' Holes in your speakers | |
| Scold a brotha like Lateef - oh, that's a no can do | |
| The Black and Puerto Rican lyric deacon speaking the truth | |
| I'll make ya giggle like a tickle or a nipple tweaker | |
| I freak a style from here to Mogadishu - here to Mozambique-a | |
| >From here to Mount Zion I'm hard to reach when at my peak | |
| Of shinin' flowin' like a creek lava spicy like paprika | |
| That's neither here nor there | |
| Fully chargin' up the air - heavy sounds gettign thicker like the atmosphere? | |
| Ya gotta get up no it cuz we got watcha want - the | |
| Beats be fat like the factory Wanka | |
| Suckas keep bitin' like a gang of piranhas | |
| Ya betta come with it if your thinkin' is stronger | |
| The mindset couldn't be any wronger | |
| We roll deep swoll like the island of Tonga | |
| Don't even really need to rock the mic any longer | |
| So I stop! | |
| Pass the mic like I pass on the porkchops | |
| [Chorus #1:] | |
| And it don't quit | |
| I say that to say this | |
| You can't oppose this | |
| I say that to say this | |
| Cuz if the clothes fit | |
| I say that to say this | |
| You're a hostess | |
| I say that to say this | |
| [Lyrics Born] | |
| You're so sensitive | |
| All I said was simple sentences | |
| Premises was left as if the messages were venomous | |
| They are though | |
| Guess it's just my penmanshipt and how it moves | |
| Your torso | |
| Suckas steer clear of me like feminists | |
| Do carshows | |
| There's a little punchline for those of you | |
| Who love rhymes with those in 'em | |
| Hear it one time then you're finished with 'em | |
| Give you that nasty, tangy feeling | |
| Check it out | |
| Free rhymes for griots in Fiats and Klingons | |
| And wee tots with crayons and Koreans | |
| In Reeboks in kiosks at flea marts and peons | |
| That be on some feline shit | |
| Y'all like the FBI on some espionage | |
| Asking questions but my head's beyond that | |
| Be openly honest | |
| Y'all write ya'll own rhymes? | |
| Oh I doubt it | |
| I's dotted | |
| T's crossed | |
| Tell you what | |
| I make a song | |
| You take it home, you think about it | |
| Promise me with every opportunity you'll use the all illuminating eye | |
| Beyond the obvious buffoonery | |
| Defy the allegations and the rumory | |
| Be out the labyrinth the average imp's enamored with | |
| [Chorus #2:] | |
| And you don't stop | |
| I say that to say this | |
| Cause with a closed fist | |
| I say that to say this | |
| Youc an't oppose this | |
| I say that to say this | |
| You're just bullshit |
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