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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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Cha cha cha cha cha |
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What's up pa, yo who poop? |
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Your ma dukes or pa dukes? |
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There's two scoops a raisin in the sun |
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Brothers try to rally up |
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Then dilly dally for some room |
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Bird peckin', doulbe deckin' |
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Rubber neckin' in my tomb |
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Check it out yo, I smile like Groucho Marx |
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I make a joke, hokey pokey, and slide by like egg yolk |
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Play me like a punk like Penguin and the Joker |
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Snoopin' in my biz like |
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Tom and Roxie Roker |
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So bust the freaky freaky freaky ways |
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The brothers with the Asian guise making G's |
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And now we're sellin' records overseas |
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Holy smokes, oops, your whole plan goofed up |
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Now you get kicks, 'nough licks, plus cuffed up |
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'Cause you can catch a quick drop |
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For tryin' to take the Schnicks' props |
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So tick tock around the clock and shock while we lick shots |
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(Boom!) for goodness sakes the stakes are high |
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I'm out (you out?) |
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ABC-ya, bye |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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I thought I saw a putty cat, I did |
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I did the humpty dumpty |
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Bashful grumpy quaker nabisco crisco kid |
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'Cause my style's figaro figaro figaro figaro like Pinochio's |
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Big Digital Underground humpty dumpty camel hump nose |
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So play dosey doe, sufferin' sucotash my mistletoe is gone |
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Snow White is after my seven dwarves |
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My styles, and after me Lucky Charms |
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So leapin' leprechauns, be glad I'm pushin' my pedal to the metal |
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I'm rugged and rough for Cocoa Puffs, and yes |
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I love my Fruity Pebbles |
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So howdy, my partner, I starts to get meaner |
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So ask Bob for hope, nope, not Mr. Bob Dobailina |
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Oh were has my mic gone? Tell me, have you seen her? |
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I stretch like a condom and gets plump like a weiner |
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Or a sasuage, but of course it's, time for Chip to wreck it |
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But before my intro I gots to check it |
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So who is the nicest in your neighborhood? |
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Lyrics are merry, merry, quite contrary |
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And Captain Crunch berry good |
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So rah rah, sis boom bah |
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Chip Fu is coming again, give thanks and praises to jah |
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My lyrics are smooth like the head on Terry Savalas |
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My tounge starts to quicken like Speedy Gonzales |
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Take up your pen, your pad |
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Your lyrical bag and run go whole a fresh |
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Touche pussy cat, put down that mic 'cause you can't rap,' |
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Cause I'm dip-dip-divin', so socializin' |
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Clean out your ears, yes, and open up your eyes and |
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I kick like Bruce Lee and Jean Claude Van Damme |
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So dunna nana nana nana nana nana, Batman! |
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I hip-hop, hop-hop |
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Don't-don't, stop-stop |
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I'm harder than a Flinstone and much bigger than a Chub Rock |
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Our types of lyrical styles? yes the Schnickens can pick 'em |
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I burp, stick 'em, ha ha ha, stick 'em |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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Rippin' the program, slow man, hot damn |
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I grand slam, swingin' things again and again (whoo) |
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Golly ha-chooey, macho like Roscoe |
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Randy Savage manwitch, swingin' the ding-a-ling with damage |
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Pauish not antoinish nor monetego |
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Spanish like que for the nine two lingo |
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Next, a new hex, commentators stand aside |
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Stringin' emcees like a bikini or panty line (ha ha) |
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Nut you might bust, but you can't even come right |
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Spite the strokin' or hopin' or pullin' a peace pipe |
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Huff and puff so what the fuck is happening? |
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On the lyrical, miracle, spirutal |
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but everybody's rockin' |
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Flip a new hit, catch wreck to the nine ship |
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Equipped, never slip with tounge twister |
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All my styles that's buckwild |
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No fake rap, I push pounds |
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I flip mad scripts and hips, I hit |
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So bring the goya oh boy-ah, as I say hasta manana |
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Soft and chewy Honky Kong fooey |
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Reggae not rasta tough stuff |
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Can I rock? |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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I'm the hooper, the hyper |
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Protected by Viper |
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When I rock the hoop yo, you'd better decipher |
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In other words you'd better make a funky decision (whoo) |
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'Cause I'm a be a Shaq knife, and cut you with precision |
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Forget Tony Danza, I'm the boss |
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When it comes to money, I'm like Dick Butkas |
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Now who's the first pick? me, word is born and |
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Not a Christean Laettner, not Alonzo Mourning |
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That's okay, not being bragadocious |
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Supercalifragelistic, Shaq is alidocious |
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Peace, I gotta go, I ain't no joke |
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Now I slam it (what?) jam it (unh) |
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And make sure it's broke |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |
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What's Up Doc? (Can We Rock) |