Ragtime

[Intro: Grand Puba Maxwell, Sadat X & (Unknown)]

Hit her, I mean let's hit this

That's not straight

Do it, God

Yo, bwoy, let's do it, nawmsayin'? Let's pull it, bwoy

[Bridge: Grand Puba Maxwell]

A-yo, check this out

Brand Nubian gettin' ready to swing this ep'

We got the Grand Puba, we got Derek X on the flex

We got Lord Jamar, we got Alamo with the A, Ron Stud!

And my man Ep Rock

X — kick the flavor for me on this one

'Cause we gettin' ready to be out of here in a sec

[Verse 1: Sadat X]

While New York roars, my voice-box soars

I'll open your pores 'cause it's one of my chores

Kickin' beats to bongo rhythms, cuttin' rhymes to a schism

People often wonder and ask... is I'm the best?

Surely you jest, I'm not down with the rest

In fact... they failed the test

It's my vernacular that's simply spectacular

My bite is in your neck, it's the effect of Dracula

Man on a mission, go to school with low tuition

Can't even keep account of the G's I be kissin'

But oh, I beg your pardon, the race is startin'

The criminals is here and I'm the hardest of the hard

And it's a feat for you to meet me on any given day

The adjective — AMAZING spelled with an 'A'

And a 'G' on the end, by usin' my pen

Set forth on a journey for the perfect blend

Rhymin' was a fad in the days of my dad

Now MC's is makin' G's and goin' for bad

The X in my name makes it all official

Am I the king? Well, that's the so-called issue

Rollin' off the tongue was the fresh one-liner

And CB talker was the zero-one-niner

Took a slight drop from the tip of the top

Now I'm out for mines, and I'm goin' to clock

What's mine, on a line, on a rhyme I will dine

Never ate the pig, can't deal with the swine

Keep on! Yes, my word is bond!

Speakin' that knowledge like Farrakhaaaan!

'Cause it's ragtime!

[Bridge: Grand Puba Maxwell]

Ah, yeah, it's ragged, let's do it!

Aight, now we got Lord J

Lord J — yo, c'mon now

Kick the flavor to this

(I'ma swing it like this)

[Verse 2: Lord Jamar]

I like to drop bass, 'cause when it hits, I bounce 'em

I do this with my seven and one half ounces of brain

Which I contain to manifest thought

The record is bought, so I figure I ought to elaborate

(Might as well) As minds in turn collaborate

I speak the facts, black, I don't exaggerate

I just get to the bare essential

Demandin' that I talk of my credentials

'Cause yo, I never slept, my mind was in the right place

Now, let's take our steps and retrace back to a time

When black was defined as Original, God-like, Supreme Divine

Refined is my mind, that's why I'm buildin'

There was a void in New York, but now it's filled in

By the Lord J, don't forget the A-M-A-to-the-R

Now say I'm a Star (You a Star, J!)

Well, you can be one, too

Now, here's all you got to do (Whatcha gotta do?)

You got to know Knowledge of Self's the foundation

Know Wisdom's the way to let it out, cuz

Understandin' is the manifestation

And culture freedom, the final turnout

'Cause it's ragtime

[Verse 3: Grand Puba Maxwell]

As I, stand as a Pharaoh and read up on Elijah

Trick ends on my friends, 'cause Puba's not a miser

Last longer than a Duracell, or an Energizer

I got a little older, but a whole lot wiser

When it comes to shootin' shots, I'm a damn good shooter

MC Grand Puba should be worshiped like a Buddha

I boogies to the rhythm, kicks all the flavortism

Damn, I gets busy, though makin' rhyme I gets bizm

Always help another, meanin' sister or a brother

Just a little tip I picked up from my mother

Smooth as Ali Baba, once a week I see the barber

So honey, pucker up 'cause I'm a damn good slobber

Mr. Exquisite, dressed in silk, Bally's made of lizard

So honey, what is it? (What is it?)

I rock a rhyme at a weddin', next tour I'm probably headin'

You want a beat like this? Check the stack of Otis Redding

I'm hurtin' like a blister, confusin' like Twister

Not an only child — four brothers and one sister

Not a rinky-dinky, never snackin' on a Twinkie

When it comes to flexin', I can bend it like a Slinkie

So here comes the champ to civilize a tramp

When brothers try to play me, that's when the Pub' gets amped

So smile, here comes the picture — click!

A humble type brother, so don't play me as a vic'

I can relate to the Good Times, the Cosby's only sometimes

Gil Noble's on a Sunday, then it's back at work on Monday

Take my gear to the cleaners, bypass all the Bimmer's

Then I'm out! Beggin' crackheads — I can do without (Definitely)

(Why not, Puba? Why, why, why?)

'Cause it's ragtime (Ah, yeah!)

* Ad-libs to outro *