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| Fugees The Score Ready Or Not Lauryn Hill: Ready or not, Here I come, You can't hide Gonna find you, and take it slowly Ready or not, Here I come, You can't hide Gonna find you, and make you want me Wyclef: Now that I escape sleep walk awake those who correlate know the world they take Jails bars and golden gates those who fake they brake when they meet they four hundred pound mate if i could rule the world, everyone would have a gun and together of course we'd giddyup out on their horse I kick a rhyme drinking moon shine I poor sip in a concrete, but then deceased but no don't weep, Wyclef's in a state of sleep thinking about the ROBBERY that I did last WEEK Money in the bag, bank a look like a drag I wanna play like Pella cause from here to Bagdad gun blast, think fast I think I'm hit My girl pinched my hips to see if I still exist I think not, I send a letter to my friends A born-again hooligan, only to be king again Chorus Lauryn Hill: yo, I play my enemies like a game of chess without rest no stress if you don't smoke cess, less i must confess my destiny's manifest to some core text and sweats I make tracks like i'm homeless Rap orgies with Porgy and Bess, capture your bounty like Elliot Ness--YES! Bless you if you represent the FU but I hex you, with some witches' brew if you doo-doo Voodo, I could do what you do, EASY! Believe me, frontin' niggaz gives me heebie-jeebies so while you imitatin' Al Capone I be Nina Simone and defacatin'g on your microphone chorus Lauryn Hill: You can't run away from these styles I got Oh baby, hey baby cause I got a lot oh yeah... Anyway you go, my whole crew gonna know Oh baby, hey baby you can't hide from the black gold now... Pras: Ready or not, refugees taking over The buffalo soldier , dread like rasta On the twelve hour flyby in my bomber crews run for cover now they under pushin' up flowers Superfly, true lies do or dies toss me high only profile with my crew from Lacaille I refugee from Guatanamo Bay, dance around the border like i'm Cassius clay Chorus And yo nobody move.... Song: Zealots [CLEF] Another MC lose his life tonight, lord I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa [CLEF] I haunt MC's like Mephistophales Bringin swords and Damacles 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 calling 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 Hypocrit, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit. It hurts don't it, the refugees come to your turf and take over the earth. [LAURYN]:INTERLUDE 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 We'll show you how the refugees do. [LAURYN] 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 fuming, I'm consuming Mango juice under Polaris, You're just embarrassed Cause it's your "Last Tango in Paris" And even after all my logic and my theory, I add a muthafuckker so you ignint niggas hear me. And you remember take notes, As I sow my rap otas And for you biting zealots, here's a quote. [CLEF]:(Chorus) Another MC lose his life tonight, lord I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa [CLEF] You can try but you can't divide the tri These cats can't rap, Mr. Author I feel no Vibe The magazine says the girl should have gone solo, The guys should stop rapping, vanish like Menudo. Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his part As long as someone was listening, I knew it was a start, For me to get a chance, grab my pen and revamp Do a cameo while everybody do the dance. Quick now, cause you runnin' out of lucka Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka. While you munchin at your luncheon, I'll be planning your assassination Then hit you like the Dutchmen [PRAZ] I compress sound sets with my rap DBX Then drop vocals on my 456 AMPEX Bring terror to the shop of horror, As she cries "Mi amor" The phantom dies in the opera And to the youngin's who carry gadgets And kill 6 days a week then rest on the Sabbath. 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 Your still a false prophet. [CLEF]:(Chorus) Another MC lose his life tonight, lord I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa |
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