[Chorus]
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
[Verse 1: Phife Dawg]
There's a million MCs that claim they want some
But see, I create sounds that make your ears go numb
Peace to Sayres Ave, yeah, you know how we go
My best friend Steven at the Home Depot
Laurelton is in the house, I can't forget Southside
Walk past MCs like that girl did to Pharcyde
I'm labeled as the cat's meow, the MC with the know-how
Act like you know, not now, but right now
Beast of the East, on MCs, I have a feast
I'd eat that ass like quiche, crack a smile like Shanice
Straight out Jamaica, seen? Jamaica, Queens
But you could find me out in Georgia or anywhere in between
Now, if my partners don't look good, Malik won't look good
If Malik don't look good, the Quest won't look good
If the Quest don't look good, then Queens won't look good
But since the sounds are universal, New York won't look good
Picture Phife losin' a battle, come on, get off it
Put down the microphone, son, surrender, forfeit
Did I hear somethin' 'bout a crew? What they wanna do?
You better call Mr. Babyface, so he can bring out the cool in you
Or it'll be a sad love song bein' sung by Toni Braxton
And I'll dissect you like a fraction
Oh, you wannabe top cat MCs? I'll pop you like a zit
You wanna be the champ? You're more like Chief Some-shit
Big up myself every time when it comes to this
MCs be runnin' scared as if they watchin' The Exorcist
I kick more game than a crackhead from Hempstead
My styles are milk, man, you'd think that I was breast-fed
You know the steelo when the diggy-Dawg is on the scene
I dedicate this to all the MCs outta Queens
That goes for Onyx, LL, Run DMC
Akinyele, Nasty Nas, and the Extra P
You peep the chart straight up and down, man, there ain't no other
'Nough respect to all my peeps that made the album cover
Yo, Tip, don't worry none, you know I get the party jumpin'
Get on the mic and break 'em off a lil', lil' somethin'
Yo, Tip don't worry none, you know I gets the party jumpin'
Get on the mic, my man, and break 'em off a lil' somethin'
[Chorus]
Ooh, la-la-la-la (Oh, my God, oh, my God)
Shooby-doo-doo-doo (Oh, my God, oh, my God)
La-la-la-la (Oh, my God, oh, my God)
Shooby-doo-doo-doo (Oh, my God, oh, my God)
La-la-la-la (Oh, my God, oh, my God)
Shooby-doo-doo-doo (Oh, my God, oh, my God)
You know I'm on the other for the Top 40 (Oh, my God, oh, my God)
Haha, you gotta do it like this (Oh, my God, oh, my God)
[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
We got the funk doody don shit, clearly it's the bomb shit
So recognize me, kids, memorize me
Every day, I be scroungin', rarely, I be loungin'
I play the down-low, very, very incognito
Aries is my sign, I know that I can rhyme
Sometimes, I rhyme in riddles, plus I make the honeys wiggle
Intellect is the major, some heads like to wager
The skills on the hill, overlookin' dollar bills
Man, you're crazy, thinkin' you can faze me
The Ab' doesn't study mere nonsense, money
Life seems to need me, MCs seem too cheesy
With they doody-ass renditions of defeatin' competition
I rock to the roll, man, yes, I'm a soul man
Bet your bottom dollar Vinia will make ya holla
As you stand at attention, did I forget to mention?
MCs will give me twenty if I sense that they act funny
Lyrics are abundant, right there, I sound redundant
Just mentionin' the fact that the area is phat
I dwell in the under, so honey, it's no wonder
That I get plenty of tail, well, I even get white
I'ma bet hittin' head crack, there, money, take that
Breakin' niggas off, cut the bank, then I'm off
While my Nikes match my Lo hat, beat joint is mad phat
Got the cutter of the box if a kid think he's ox
For tier means creator, the poetry relator
It's hemmed like Betsy Ross, let me tell ya who's the boss
[Chorus: Q-Tip]
La-la-la (Oh, my God)
La-la-la (Oh, my God)
La-la-la, smooth it out, y'all (Oh, my God)
La-la-la (Oh, my God)
La-la-la (Oh, my God)
La-la-la (Oh, my God)
La-la-la (Oh, my God)
La-la-la
[Outro: Q-Tip]
Queens got a—
Brooklyn got a—
Bronx got a—
Staten Island got a—
Long Island got the zone
Jersey got a—
Philly got a—
Milwaukee got a—
L.A. got a—
Oaktown got a zone
La-la-la
La-la-la
La-la-la
La-la-la
See, I like to get down, jack
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