Q-Tip:
|
The taste of nuthin, this does somethin
|
Moms that knows that, says I'm frontin
|
Call me Smiley, cuz I'm wiley
|
Livin life like the life of Riley
|
Smokin blunts with a boy named Bud
|
We cough up your lungs, cough up your cud
|
Put out fires, with a 40, ounce of water
|
You know you oughta
|
Dance to this, your girl you kiss
|
I like fried foods, especially fish
|
Afrocentric, I'm electric
|
Socialistic and eccentric
|
Body's healthy, mind is wealthy
|
Thoughts, they flow, that will prepare me
|
To be a Native, get creative
|
Original and designative
|
Listen to the line that's playin
|
Listen hard to what Q's sayin
|
Politicians are magicians
|
Make your vote, they hope your wishin
|
Ambiguous words, senseless verbs
|
They all amount to crap that's heard
|
Violent hip hop, money flip flops
|
Promoters won't book, but it still rocks
|
I'm a Zulu, yes, a true blue
|
Red Alert is with the poo-poo
|
Ozone layer, loses flava
|
Here's the edge that you will savor
|
|
Jarobi:
|
The economy...politics...police...everything
|
Except for the youth
|
But the youth about to come back
|
|
Q-Tip(voice distorted):
|
Alright, here they come
|
Uh oh, uh oh, uh!
|
|
Q-Tip:
|
With expressions and I'm guessin
|
19 years is a youthful lesson
|
Fallin skies babe, open eyes babe
|
Can't you see what lays inside babe
|
Makin mentions on this tension
|
Rhythmic lovin, my profession
|
Hips, they gyrate, scripts I narrate
|
No banana, I ain't a primate
|
Ain't no soul glo, just an afro
|
The head is bred to let the thoughts grow
|
Quest together, to lands of never
|
Sleet and snow and storms can't sever
|
Tribe is growin, never know when
|
For this time, six necks may show in
|
Dialogues have been accepted
|
Negatives have been rejected
|
That's the music, negro music
|
Is here for all, so you must choose it
|
Phonies fondle, watch it throttle
|
3-6-5 straight out the bottle
|
Bustin caps, finger snaps
|
I prefer the second for ghetto tracks
|
Phife, Jarobi, Ali told me
|
Get the force like Wan Kenobi
|
Force his teachin, beats are screechin
|
Poly plateaus, we aim for reachin
|
Tribalization, freaks the nation
|
A mass of peers in celebration
|
Hopes been real high, since the knee high
|
Days of youth, feelin good and real spry
|
Avid combos, hear those bongos
|
Boom cacka boom, that's how they go
|
We ain't nomads, but we real glad
|
Hip hop slams through the nineties, no fad
|
As a rhythm, have been given
|
Hurry up, become, we breakin out, out
|
|
Shaheed:
|
With a rhythmic instinction to be able to travel
|
Beyond existing forces of life
|
Basically, that Tribal
|
And if you wanna get the rhythm
|
Then you have to join a Tribe
|
Word, peace
|
|
-----------------
|
Youthful Expression
|
| A Tribe Called Quest |
