Lyrics:
the hell can you be real?
chorus 2 (2X):
(scratching)(Q-Tip from "Check the Rhime")How far must you go to gain
respect? Um...
Guru:
Now in '93,
It's Q-Tip, the ass-jack
Will.i.am and Sergio
Q-tip steady rockin' on yo' radio
It's the eh, it's the ethnic
It's the hip hop dance, let's sing
Check it out y'all
Ch-ch-check it out y'all
Two, two Live Crew
Two Li, two Li, two Li, two Live Crew
Fresh, fresh, fresh Kid Ice
Tre-treach Dee
(feat. Q-Tip)
[Verse One: Q-Tip]
I want to be able to reach an mc
And reach a little child in the same degree
And my elders excel
I mean what
You hit the local showcase and heard that Check the Rhime
By that short jumpy nerd and mustachioed man
Now I gotta do it solo, B.T.C ain't the clan
Well
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
Check this out, Cool DJ Red Alert
With my man, Q-Tip
In the morning, woke up from sexual pleasures
Looked at her sexual partner
Who acquainted
bluffing, just check
Wit the crew, Pete Rock and CL Smooth very down to earth
And we didn't have to curse
Yea, yea the Abstract poet Q-tip of a Tribe
check
Wit the crew, Pete Rock and CL Smooth very down to earth
And we didn't have to curse
Yea, yea the Abstract poet Q-tip of a Tribe Called Quest
bluffing, just check
Wit the crew, Pete Rock and CL Smooth very down to earth
And we didn't have to curse
Yea, yea the Abstract poet Q-tip of a Tribe
bluffing, just check
Wit the crew, Pete Rock and CL Smooth very down to earth
And we didn't have to curse
Yea, yea the Abstract poet Q-tip of a Tribe
Yeah, going out to Showbiz, Whiz One, Lord Finesse
Jazzy Jay, my man Q-Tip, KX, yo check it out
Check one, two, no one to run to
I Catch-22,
I'm drunk, I'm high, damn near gettin' by
I'm drunk, I'm high, damn near gettin' by
I'm drunk, I'm high, damn near gettin' by
Yeah I'm drunk, I'm
takin' a beatin'
You're sure to see the Pink Panther speakin'
[Q-Tip]
I'm a native New Yorker, I pitch a lot of porker
When I get my ride, I be
I put the Q in crazy, it got me feeling like juice
I can record everyday but then I would just be diluting the music
I can go run up some money
know how we do
Mic check, I walk around the streets with a black TEC-9
By the waistline, kickin' the hype shit
I never claimed to be the best type
You want to see a young brother from the Compton tip check a grip
Well, keep lookin', because the C-A-M-E-O track is cookin'
Like a big ol' pot
You want to see a young brother from the Compton tip check a grip
Well, keep lookin', because the C-A-M-E-O track is cookin'
Like a big ol' pot
(yes)
It's like that man, it's like that (yes)
Check it
I'm not your average MC with the Joe Schmoe flow
If you don't know me by now, you'll never
the lost diaries of the mob and the Rothschilds
I feel like God brought the vials and I am just layin' down inside 'em like caulk and tile
Q-Tip
Man,
can you try to stop me
Also yo, your brothers tried to pop me
On the sneak tip, without me knowin
So I keep goin, and my rhymes keep flowin
On and on,
again
YES WE ALIVE
I'll call Busta Rhyme to check Bonita
Q-Tip and tribe so please step aside
This is 93 bars and running I'm gunning
No talk white
of my private stock and
Riding in the relax
Frame of mind and
Hammer timing
Incredible.
So edible
And unforgettable.
Soft like a Q-Tip
I'd love
Yeah, going out to Showbiz, Whiz One, Lord Finesse
Jazzy Jay, my man Q-Tip, KX, yo check it out
Check one, two, no one to run to
I Catch-22, when I
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