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作曲 : Jones, Maturine, Muhammad ... |
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La Schmoove, yo we don’t got nuttin to prove(x4) |
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Poc Fu:Yo, when I was small they used to tease me |
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because my hair was peasy, hard and greasy |
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But now I’m livin well like George and Wheezy |
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So easy (WHAT?) does it (YO!) |
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Is it, because I’m, rockin — beats, beats, beats |
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Fu-Manchu’n cause I’m doin what just had to be done |
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Now we in there like swimwear, girls callin me hon |
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Give me hugs, little peck, mucho tongue, lots of sex |
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Nuff respects to my bros that live on five-six street RIGHT |
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I’m smashin monster mashin boom bashin in a fashion |
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which is wild now I smile when I whip-lash MC’s with my style |
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Call me Cuckoo, I’m makin buku, bucks |
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I’m geared and fully prepared to tear all MC’s that are, smuks |
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For bros who sleep and cavity creep and listen when I talk |
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as I soothe in the groove, cause I’m smooth like Mr. Rourke |
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Doobely-zoo Mr. Wu, no need to be rude, but F.U. |
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cause I ain’t got nuttin to prove |
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La Schmoove, yo we don’t got nuttin to prove！(x4) |
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Chip Fu:‘Leave it to Beaver’-arriva, derci |
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Heavens to mercy ba FU sayanora |
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adios muchachos dorme vous unbuckle my Fu-Schnick shoe |
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Mr. Chip Fu, about to wreck shop |
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With the Judo (CHOP!) a Judo (CHOP!) a Judo chop CHOP! |
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Yo, zilch kaput me nada none son |
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I don’t think so, so take a look at |
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a Superfly big Jimmy the Honeynut Cheerio Bee |
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ba schnicker bah snchnucker |
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I ams what I ams that’s all what I ams |
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My lyrics are never done |
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I’m the big John Elmer Glue the Elmer the Fudd |
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Al Bundy the Bud Light stud |
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Come like tongues lashes, with the quickness |
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Moc and Poc is, my witness Moc |
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Ask the Kung about my tongue and the styles that I brung instead |
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I’m the Ali Babi cutty rankin shuba-dib-da-dabble |
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Jaw Boy Wonder Bread dread, BUM BA READ |
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These lyrics ah-come out of mi head, BUM BA READ |
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Mr. Chip Fu’s gon stay’ di-di, da-di-di, dra-dread （Chip Fu） |
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You said I couldn’t rap, but I really wrecked shop |
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and I don’t stop drop, I get props |
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I pick up the mic drop a style and pattern and fashion |
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and all MC’s jaws drops down |
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My accent, you’re mockin, my clothes, you’re clockin |
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Rippin MC’s to smithereens to their ribbidy-diddiby-Pippi Long-STOCKINGS |
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So don’t step to Chip, I’m on the La Schmoove tip |
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You’ll say “Drats I really failed again plus he sank my Babble-ship” |
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So oooh, shit G, wa-wa or biscuit? |
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Rip it and be specific doin it terrific when I kicks it |
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Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang, Pepe LePew, Pepe LePew |
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La Schmoove, yo I ain’t got NUTTIN to prove! |
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La Schmoove, yo we don’t got nuttin to prove!(x4) |
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Phife Dawg:Now here I go, once again, with the ill flow |
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Other MC’s that rap, their style is so-so |
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Phife Dawg was never the type that ever lacked skills (Phife Dawg) |
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I just stay true to my roots and then I get ill |
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Twenty years of age, but yet I still see KNOWLEDGE |
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And this year, was so-called, my Senior year in COLLEGE |
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But I chose to pursue, in a field called music |
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And with some hype beats and breaks you know I won’t refuse it |
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Get on the board lay down the track and I’ll do ten laps |
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Pass the pen, pass the pad, and I’ll kick nuff RAPS |
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Just come inside your jam and witness who is boss |
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and it won’t be Tony Danza nor Diana Ross |
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As small as I am, I still can pack jams |
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Do a freestyle, and step, but yet I still slam |
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Not tryin to say that no one can get with me |
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Not only is it the lyrics I write, it’s my delivery |
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Name one rapper that you know who has this high-strung voice |
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My name’s Malik and I’m unique, in other words top choice |
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Nothin commercial bout this, it’s mainly hardcore |
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Now that you got what you want, do you want more? |
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(UHH!) Because I got more in store! |
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La Schmoove, yo we don’t got nuttin to prove!（x4） |
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Moc Fu:MC, the Shining One, a.k.a. The Golden Child |
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I have a grin at times, but then throw up a fake smile |
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Vaseline Intensive Care, don’t fear mon frere |
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‘Cept I say, everybody that rappin, G pull his hair |
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Back in the groove, it’s no way you can handle this |
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Shit so fly, that you can call it scandalous |
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Cause I mani-fest in, words that I’m preachin |
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Unleashin, you now seek the sounds that I’m teachin |
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I hear NOT see NOT, knots to makes butts ROCK |
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I rides rhythm to the beginnin, then won’t stop |
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The Chinese Son of Sam, the Skipper’s Peter Pan |
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The rootinest tootinest cowboy in the East |
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Releasin, a new type of lyrical lingo |
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Single, +The Alarm+, the girls cooties I will tingle |
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No expiration date, so you know I won’t EXPIRE |
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No skippin a weekly check, so I don’t have to RETIRE |
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Write, the ca-pital, M.O. |
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Chip Fu with the Kung-Fu givin shouts on my show （Chip Fu） |
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Ir-regular styles is here too |
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Tripped, boo-boo, you first made a mistake |
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Not Alexander but considered to be Great |
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Great, but, like the Grape Ape |
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Fake, the moves, and your ankles I will break |
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Break, or broken, the M.O., has spoken |
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Movements on the slick, takin the train you need a token |
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I guess not, cause you pause for the cause |
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You either bitin your nails, or start pickin straws |
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Holy Mick I’m livin large just like trunk jewels |
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Nuff respects to many minds, Ah-OWWW |
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La Schmoove, yo we don’t got nuttin to prove!(x4) |
