Boof Baf

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Fugees

Fugees (/ˈfuːdʒiːz/) (formerly Tranzlator Crew) were an American hip hop group who rose to fame in the mid-1990s. Their repertoire included elements of hip hop, soul and Caribbean music, particularly reggae. The members of the group were rapper/singer/producer Wyclef Jean, rapper/singer/producer Lauryn Hill and rapper Pras Michel. Deriving their name from the term refugee, Jean and Pras are Haitian, while Hill is American. The group recorded two albums—one of which, The Score (1996), was a multi-platinum and Grammy-winning success—before disbanding in 1997. Hill and Jean each went on to successful solo recording careers; Michel focused on soundtrack recordings and acting, though he found commercial success with his song "Ghetto Supastar". In 2007, MTV ranked … more »

Year:

1994

5:09

209 Views

Playlists:

#6

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[Wyclef Jean] 
I'm Chill-Master-Nell of a thousand emcees 
But how are you gonna tell the real I bust from these fo' knees 
Cause he sees everyone with a deal with a record company 
They go home, they write a rhyme, they think they ready to battle better 
Some write forward, some write backward 
I wait for them to get the cheeba-ganja then reverse yo 
With a verse that's worse than the last one 
Some say BOO! he's the po he used to diss Jamaicans 
And Hatians cause you thought I was American 
Hey Pras, remember that song they sang, yeah! 
Go back to Jamaica, what's good is what's new 
But now we move off with Uncle's with a trail-crate of cooler! 

[Pras] 
I'm from the island, the island I'm from is the strong island 
Emcees must be right, when I syke from lack of freestylin' 
Mind must be sharp until my holler girl, I get all in 
Black stylin', ridin', Boof'll be trappin' 
When they come to battle champ see the shoes flappin' 
Huh, coolin' while I'm rappin' 

[Chorus: Wyclef Jean]
(Boff Baf!) another sound of a guy 
(Boff Baf!) never boy, duck punk, try 
(Boff Baf!) another sound of a guy 
(Boff Baf!) never boy, duck punk, try 

[Wyclef Jean]
Said if you write with pencil you must write with (Pen!) 
If you have a rooster you must have a (Hen!) 
Five plus five you know that equals to (Ten!) 
Then spit the yellow man, check it to groove-to-groove site 

[Pras] 
One, two, I throw a flow to catch it 
Three, four, back she know before the track miss 
I f*ck ya when style go, to wreck this static 
(But yo sister, grab the mic and do damage!!) 

[Lauryn Hill] 
Hey yo I used to drive a hooptie, check me down swoopie 
Rollin' with the Jones' but I different homozones 
See life's got no value if I ain't got no statue 
Hannibal heads, I be the kid from "Timbuktu" 
One, two, zip me-me, check the mic I'm ready 
Three, four, please the army "Oh God", with Uzi's 
So what, converse man, the chicken or the hoodie 
Get the hoodie came first then mans' then would be Nancy 
To kill the Jesse James rough, step back, check your steps 
I'll love your theory like the chi-chi-woo-woo-boogie-man 
You say I'm balanced but you're Silence of the Lambs 
And when I call your name I say Candyman, Candyman, Candyman 
Cause I can, can, yes, I can, can 

[Chorus]

[Wyclef Jean]
Well I'm on Fire (Fire), Fire (Fire), Fire (Fire) 
So let me re-light your viacom 
And let you enter the-the-elec-tronic (COOL!!) [Repeat: x4]
All that movin' I call my nozzle you see I was an electronic 
You listen to your lyrics in chime - your Panasonic 
The ly-ly-ly-lyricaler, the di-di-di-digital 
Pras take the mic man, you know you're really critical 

[Pras]
Stall emcees-soft-put 'em up for-er-Death Row (yeah) 
Rhyme and cultural, style and never old 
Slashed the priest-fool, ooh, you're filth-swolled 

[Wyclef Jean] 
I say no to spliff but my friends still smoke ?Juano? 
Coolin' it, coolin' it, coolin' it 
Somebody chuck me-who the who'd you think? 
Hold the mic, hold the mic, I shoot 'em 
Down with my last one, last one, last one, last one and 
(Boo-shoo-coo-coo!) Smoke! 
I got my bullet-proof and now to send my bozack 

[Chorus]

[Mad Spider]
Rich rap come from the brothers in the neigborhood 
Who used to rap on a Polaroid, here comes Father Joe 
Let me clock the block as I pull fo'-five 
Boof Baf, I cut the block with gat-stops 
I used to play hookie just to see how good an emcee was 
He said I bust a battle, alright, I still took a gun 
No cheeba, cheeba just a Libra on a last ride 
I waited so long that I thought I died and came back alive 
So hear the spirits, many fear, ?Sir New Stosser? 
This the new thing under the Sun, when I come, I come 
Bam-bam, alakazam, he grabbed the mic 
Up the block they ran, I came back with the bag 
Cause that's my momma man 
I'm just patrollin', move off in the block 
But the spot that I clock, you get shot if your numbers' about 
So don't get caught in the fast lane, the fast lane 
A just remain yourself and be the same 
Cause many rapper-days, say nothin' for nothin' 
So here's sut-um to take you from the am to the pm 

[Pras]
Cause a imitator could never be greater than the creator 
Whose the originator, step up infiltrator 
See you in the alligator, back stabbin' traitor 
Tape recorder, duplicator, roughly rhymin' with the head tranzlator, hah! 
And leave the forty to be naughty in the fridgerator!

[Chorus: Repeats]

[Wyclef Jean]
Say gun-man (Boff Baf!) say tell me where you get your ? from (Boff Baf!) 
You must of get it from the foreign land (Boff Baf!) 
We want to shoot up the old a Babylon (Boff Baf!) 
Pay the man to rhyme onto it 
Say gun-man (Boff Baf!) say tell me where you get your ? from (Boff Baf!) 
You must of get it from the foreign land (Boff Baf!) 
You want to kill your own brother man (Boff Baf!), ay, ay, ay (Boff Baf!)

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