Artist: De La Soul
Album:  3 Feet High and Rising
Song:   Potholes in My Lawn


(Yo, something's wrong here. No, not again!) 
(Get the daisies for the...) 

Potholes in my lawn 

DOVE: 
Everybody's sayin' 
What to do when suckin' lunatics start diggin' and chewin' 
They don't know that the Soul don't go for that 
Potholes in my lawn 
And that goes for my rhyme sheet 
Which I concentrated so hard on, see 
I don't ask for maximum security 
But my dwellin' is swellin' 
It nipped my bud when I happened to fall 
Into a spot 
Where no ink or an ink-blot 
Was on a scroll 
I just wrote me a new 'mot' 
But now it's gone 
There's no 
Suckers knew that I hate 
To recognise that every time I'm writin' 
It's gone 

(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a) 
(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee) 

Potholes in my lawn 

POS: 
I've found that it's not wise 
To leave my garden untended 
'Cause eyes have now pardoned all laws of privacy 
Even paws are after my writer 
See, I've found that everyone's sayin' 
What to do when suckers are preyin' 
On my well-guarded spreadsheets 
Oh why, hell does it send up fleets 
Of evil-doers through the big hole 
To get to evil-doers who dig holes 
Which leaves my lawn with lawn-chew 
I think I'd better plant traces to give clues 
Or better yet call 911 
And when they get here I inform them I'm the Plug One 
Open a chair and let them realize the reason 
For concern of the Soul, 
'Cause we've come down with a case of potholes 

(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a) 
(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee) 

Potholes in my lawn 

(Who stole, who stole, who stole the cookie 
from the cookie jar?) 

DOVE: 
Now you got the message 
What to do when you die 
The death that I predict in 'Plug Tunin' 
It's a shame that you deny to claim 
That you stole my words of fame 
That I wrote in my rhyme sheet 
Which I concentrated so hard on, see 
I don't ask for a barbed wire fence, B 
But my dwellin' is swellin' 
It nipped my bud when I happened to fall 
Into a spot 
Where no ink or an ink-blot 
Was on a scroll 
I just wrote me a new 'mot' 
But now it's gone there's no 
Suckers knew that I hate 
To recoginse that every time I'm writin' 
It's gone 

Potholes in my lawn 

(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a) 
(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)