Sh. Fe. MC's

[Intro]

(Check it out, y'all)

[Chorus]

We are here to tell the world just who we are

Shocking females (MCs, MCs)

Shocking females (MCs, MCs)

We are here to tell the world just who we are

Shocking females (MCs, MCs)

Shocking females (MCs, MCs)

[Verse 1: Phife Dawg]

No need for introductions 'cause I know you know my name and

Knockin' MCs out the frame and, puttin' them suckers to shame and

I live for hip-hop, so I have no time for fun and games and

So just come peep the unique styles that we're displayin'

The beats just ridiculous, the lyrics, articulate

Feels good, as if a girl had just touched her clitoris

Sucker MCs, I'm killin' 'em

I'm so sick of seein' 'em silly bounce that on they rhymes

Like that red rugby shirt worn by Gilligan

Plus the hat, they shit is wack

When you see me comin', take ten steps back

I makes usage of the pronouns, adjectives, verbs

My granny says, "You always had a way with words"

And that's because my word is bond, lyrics are laws

Sucker MCs look at me like a friggin' eye sore

[Verse 2: Posdnuos]

Here comes a brother hippin' others on the style they lack

I've always rhymed abstract

I even know the brother named Abstract

I am the earner of the soul and mind

Forget the physical, 'cause physical will die with time

I'm shaped to vibrate indefinite proportions

Of the kids who need the fix (Just listen to the mix)

I got the knowledge constant non-stop for the rubbishin'

Like niggas usin' Clinton loops as if they owned the publishing

Gums be bleedin' from illegal feedin' on my verb

I bring the Mardi Gras to your face

I outwit vipers in my rhyme cipher

I can easily lick them 'cause they victims of the subconscious race

Tossin' periods in front of foes reps

It's not the one-eight-seven when the 360 slept

You swallow the cake from the plate of elevate

Or you might get sparked by the crew who got the weight

So resuscitatin' rap like the hicks do with Presley

Is the kid who peeled the jeans in Orleans off of Leslie

Sh.Fe.MC number nine

If you let me rhyme nine times infinitely, I will climb

I let my Walkman from Sony play cassettes from Rabboni

Which guarantees to put me on the narrow road

Ayo, that's it from me

Plug 3 and Ali, explode (Explode)

[Interlude: Q-Tip]

'Bout to get real

[Verse 3: Q-Tip]

When I rhyme, the effect just ripples

You sound sick, I hope your cells get sickles

And formulate into real stiff shit

Then I bet that ass'll cut the chit-chit

'Cause the Ab' will be sharper than a Ginsu

Cutter or your bum nigga's head for the gutter

This is not a game and we ain't lookin' for the fame

That's not the aim, we came to rip the jam out the frame

My inter-reaction with paper is amazin'

So needless to say, mad trails are left blazin'

A whole lot of bullshit rhymes start to get played

But I'm here to say that real rhymes do pay

I'm the type of brother that writes until my knuckles get nary

And through the dome piece, the rhymes will carry

Then transported to my throat then the quotes hit the air

As I stand dipped with the wares

Rhymes get slot times, move back from the jack

It's the verbal constructor, some MCs is wack

I make a girl do the bogle, doo-doo brown and all

Make a nigga jump up, drink Dom and have a ball

I animate the unlively with the verbal combat

The Abstract, never the wack

Motivator of the many like Moses

Movin' through, bringin' danger to the dummies that poses

That means you, the sub relator of the sub-culture

Like a vulture, I swoop down on clowns, cause confusion all around

Mental burdens I bring to MCs who sing they sad songs

Money, your dough's not long

Mines, on the other hand, is lengthy type

The Abstract gets real, real, real

[Verse 4: Trugoy the Dove]

Real down to Earth, I hit the Long Island Rail

You never see me tango with the horn and the tail

I got the kit for your mind, I design it like Zender

Smokin' mad hope from my neighbors, and the

50/50 luck takes the "S" off my chest

'Cause the "S" on my chest makes a mess

Settlin' for Superman, stupid man, put on your glasses

Now your asses be slow gassin' like molasses

Continue the menu, next on the platter

Hey, where that nigga chatter? (He's right here, boy)

I gots to see what I got and who I'm gettin' it wit'

This ain't no nickel-dime game that I'm peddlin' wit'

Mikey Roads said "Stop ridin', it be dividin'

Takin' me out how I be vibin'"

Niggas actin' hard like gristle

But my pops got the pistol, told me if I ever need it, just—

Respects to Griff Dog for the razor

Much respects to Joe Buck for the favor

It's about a million brothers tryin' to be MCs in this world

I'm glad I got a baby girl