Artist: The Fugees Album: The Score Song: Zealots Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash [Wyclef Jean] One two - I'm bout to set this off! Like this Hip-hoppers, check it {*singing*} Another MC lose his life tonight, lawwwwd I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why Ohh laww-WWD, father don't let him bury me, whoahhhh {*rapping*} I haunt MC's like Mephistopheles, bringin swords of Damocles Secret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy Abstract raps simple with a street format Gaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax Check out the retrograde motion, kill the notion of biting and recycling and callin it your own creation I feel like Rockwell, "Somebody's Watching Me" I got no privacy whether on land or at sea And for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonic Hypocrite, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit It hurts don't it, a ReFugee come to your turf and take over the earth [Lauryn Hill - *singing*] See my rhymes, are the type of fly rhymes that can only get down with my crew And if you try, to take lines or bite rhymes (hehe) we'll show you how the ReFugees do {*rapping*} Yeah, yeah behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymes Two MC's can't occupy the same space at the same time It's against the laws of physics So weep as your "Sweet Dreams" break up like Eurythmics Rap rejects my tape deck, ejects projectile Whether jew or gentile, I rank top percentile Many styles, more powerful than gamma rays My grammar pays, like Carlos Sanatana plays, "Black Magic Woman" So while you fumin I'm consumin mango juice under Polaris You just embarrassed cause it's your "Last Tango in Paris" And even after all my logic and my theory I add a motherfucker so you ig'nant niggaz hear me Crew remember take notes, as I sow my rap oats And for you biting zealots, here's a quote [Wyclef Jean - *singing*] Ay! Another MC lose his life tonight, ohhhhh I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, whyyyy Ohh laww-WWD, father don't let him bury we, aiyyyy {*rapping*} You can try but you can't divide the tribe These cats can't rap, Mr. Author I feel no Vibe (whatchu readin?) The magazine says the girl should have gone solo The guys should stop rappin - vanish like Menudo Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his part As long as someone was listenin, I knew it was a start For me to get my chance, grab my pen and revamp (bing!) Do a cameo while everybody do the dance Quick now, cause you runnin out of luck-a Playin Mr. Big, "I'm Gonna Get You Sucka" While you munchin at your luncheon I'll be plannin your assassination, then hit you like the Dutchman [Prazwell] I compress sound sets with my rap DBX Then drop vocals on my 456 Ampex Bring terror to the shop of horror As she cry, "Mi amor," the Phantom dies in the Opera And to the young'uns who carry gadgets And kill six days a week, then rest on the Sabbath (hold up, hold up!) Violence ain't necessary, unless you provoke me Then get buried like the great Mussolini And for you bitin zealots, your rap styles are relics No matter who you "Damage," you're still a false "Prophet" [Wyclef Jean - *singing*] Ay! Another MC lose his life tonight, lawwwwwd I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, whyyyy Ohh laww-WWD, father don't let him bury me, yeahhh