Artist: A Tribe Called Quest Album: Low End Theory Song: Butter Typed by: OHHLA.com Verse One: Phife Dawg 1988 Senior Year, Garvey High Where all the guys were corny but the girls were mad fly Loungin with the Tipster, Coolin with Sha Scopin out the honeys - they know who they are I was the b-ball playin fly rhyme sayin Fly girl gettin but never was I sweatin Cause when it came to honeys I would go on a stroll Until I met my match - her name was Flo Yeah - I messed around with the one called Flo All the troopers round the way used to call her a ho But deep down in my heart I knew that Flo was good to go Cause I thought it was me - like Bell Biv Devoe But little did I know that she was playin' with my mind The only thing I learned is, good girls are hard to find I feel like Heavy D I need somebody for me Not someone who's mind is blank and tryin' to juice me for my bank Swingin' with my main man Lucky behind my back What type of crap is that - yo, hows about a smack? Word life, I can't front - thought I was all that But now it seems, I met my match Was a stone cold lover, you couldn't tell me jack Settlin' down with one girl, wasn't tryin' to hear that I had Tonya, Tamika, Sharon, Karen Tina, Stacy, Julie, Tracy Used ta love 'em, leave 'em, skeeze 'em, tease 'em Find 'em, lose 'em - also abuse 'em My whole attitude was new day, next hon And believe it or not, they all got done Well here comes Flo, with the crazy whip appeal And I'm all true man, like Alexander O'Neal Is this really love, then again, how would I know After all this time tryin' to be a superhoe She finally played me, but yo, I'd find another Cause I got the crazy game and yo, I'm smooth like butter Chorus: Q-Tip Butter, like butter baby . . . [repeat 2X] Not no Parkay, not no margarine, Strickly butter baby, strictly butter Verse Two: Phife Dawg I remember when, Girls were goodie two shoes, but now they turned to freaks Allofasudden "We love you Phife" - ease of ho, my name's Malik Phife this, Phife that, where you goin', where you at These girls don't know me from jack, yet I feel like the Mack You didn't want me then, so hon, don't want me now Here, Here - take the towel, wipe off your brow And take the Ccontact out your eye, you're far from lookin' fly You get an E for effort, and T for nice try Now tell me what's the reason, for dyin' your hair Slum village gold still danglin in your ear You barely have a neck but still sportin' a rope Four-finger ring just so Phifer can scope You looked in the mirror, didn't know what to do Yesterday your eyes were brown but today they are blue Your whole appearance is a lie and it could never be true And if you really loved yourself then you would try and be you If your hair and eyes were real, I wouldn't have dissed ya But since it was bought, I had to dismiss ya If you can't achieve it, then why not try and weave it If you can't extend it then you might as well suspend it If you can't braid it, best thing to do is fade it I asked who did your hair and you tell me "Diane made it" If you were you and just you, talk to you, maybe But I can't stand, no bionic lady Tryin' hard to look fly, but yo, you're lookin' dumber If I wanted someone like you I woulda swung with Jamie Summers You wanna be treated right, see Father MC Or check Ralph Tresvant, for sens-a-tiv-i-ty See I am not the one, I got more game than Parker Brothers Phife Dog is on the mic and I'm smooth like Butter . . .