[Chorus]
|
Friends, how many have 'em?
|
How long before they split like atoms?
|
Don't ask me, but what I do stand behind
|
is someone havin your back, seems hard to find
|
You know the line, "Don't judge the book by its cover"
|
Read every page cause the nigga's my brother
|
But it shoulda stated, that the book's on one's life
|
is always upgraded (so open the book!)
|
|
[Pop]
|
...Aight, business.. page 9, right?
|
|
Yo, sun's out so momma's first son's up
|
Between me and Deen, I'm the first one up
|
Ready to grind, always on time
|
for any interview, face-to-face, even online
|
Knocked out about fo' befo', Deen stumbles through
|
the door groggy, last night foggy, so unprofessional!
|
|
[Deen]
|
What? You wanna hold a congressional hearing on this shit?
|
C'mon, Pop, quit!
|
|
[Pop (Deen)]
|
This is how we is when it comes to the biz
|
Off-point, off-centered
|
and when you point it out, he gets ill-tempered
|
Promoter of the show's pissed cause the spot had a curfew
|
but Hurricane Whitter blew through
|
and made the mess of the date (Yeah, I got here late, and?)
|
We only did four songs, 'spose to do more songs
|
Now Ken-doo dealin with the riot and the venue, yeah
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Deen (Pop)]
|
Crazy.. got this shit right here, on page 63
|
|
Aiyyo, little kid's sis insists she knows me
|
Backstage access, aspiring actress
|
She gon' be the candidate to get this caucus
|
Of course my campaign is interrupted
|
Jacob's fury, he's wearing a helmet
|
Penile pad like he's Mr. Cockney
|
I ain't buyin it, he can't sell it
|
I'll redial Madlock, the verdict is sloppy
|
We used to split the rations, trios menages
|
But now I got a private car parked garages
|
All on my front seat, he playin like bumper cars
|
(I think yo' bitch likes me!) Nigga she's neither one of ours
|
He on the bitch strong so I'ma play passive
|
Now she sayin she gotta go home - YOU BASTARD!
|
Damn, I'm in the gooddamn dirt like a shovel
|
outta work with a pay stub and earnin NO love
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Pop]
|
Oh yeah I'll open the book!
|
Yeah let me open it for you
|
I'll turn to the page for you motherfucker
|
It's right here! Look right here!
|
|
It's like the harmonica sounds of black clouds around
|
Word around the campfire you said I'm a tramp buyer
|
Nigga, I don't pay for hoes!
|
Unlike you who disappears for DAYS for hoes
|
|
[Deen]
|
Well here go Captain Paper-Frozen, Salad-That's-Frosty
|
The only dude in the group with a personal glossy
|
Personal transport, champion hand sport
|
Caught him yankin the cord, this dude is boss
|
|
[Pop]
|
And the Lord won't save us even though we need saving
|
Can't even wrestle it, now it's all desolate
|
Like B.B. said, "The thrill is dead"
|
And the afterlife, it's trife to stay in the red
|
|
[Deen]
|
But I'm stayin ahead, one lesson to thank you
|
Stow a skunk in the street cred and one in the bank too
|
Far gone but ain't far enough to see through
|
Word is you did a solo album with your people
|
But life ain't that Pop, you ain't no show stopper
|
Send the boys over to crown you when-
|
|
[Pop]
|
Hey what the fuck you just say? Yo stop the tape!
|
[music stop] Yo, WHAT THE FUCK YOU JUST SAY?!
|
|
[Deen]
|
Nigga, I said what you heard!
|
|
[Pop]
|
Oh, uh-huh.. please...
|
and WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST HEAR?
|
|
[Deen]
|
Oh, it's like that Pop?
|
...It's on now
|
|
-----------------
|
The Book Of Life
|
| De La Soul |
