Verse One: Phife Dawg 

Aiyyo swing swing swing, to chop chop chop 
Yo that's the sound when MC's get mopped 
Don't come around town without the hip in your hop 
Cause when the shit hits the fan, that ass'll get dropped 
MC's wanna attack me but them punks can't cope 
I'll have you left without a job, like Isley from The Love Boat 
So money watch your mouth, or I might have to bust ya 
Battlin MC's, from JFK to Russia 
Back down to London, Sweden and Brazil 
Do a U.S. tour for three months and then a chill 
Styles be fat like Jackie Gleason, the rest be Art Carney 
People love the Dawg like the kids love Barney 
"I love you, you love me" 
The shorty Phife Dawg is your favorite MC 
So move back yaself dread, you know the element 
The Tribe is good for your health like a can of Nutriment 
MC's don't have no winds, MC's don't have no winds 
I flips you crazier than a busload of Jerry's Kids 
Your crew don't want it, man your crew don't want it 
But if you feel you can swing it, then money please bring it 
(sup) Large Professor in the house (sup) 
(sup) You know how we do (sup) 
(sup) I stay on your crew (sup) 
(whassup) like Mario Lemieux (whassup) 
(Whassup?) Peace to Ike Love 
(Sup? Hah hah) and the rest of the crew (Whassup?) 
(Whassup?) I meet you guys in front the cleaners 
Bring the blunts and the brew so 

Verse Two: Q-Tip 

Whassup kids? The Ab is speaking from the moon 
Thanks for your support, aiyyo I'll be home soon 
But the only thing I ask when I return from my task 
Is a whole bunch of beats and a Blass full of ass 
My fist stands firm because I'm, black and solid 
I open up your pores like a plate full of collards 
C'mon take it easy wouldya, easy easy 
I'm up in the gulley, that's when I am her Buddy 
She told me pull her hair, I did, it drove her nutty 
Filled up the hole like spackle or I mean putty 
When we over joints like this we never cruddy 
Extra P hooked the beat, and kids it feels luh-huh-ovely 
Check it out, cause my conception is immaculate 
A bachelor, lookin for a bachlelorette 
Back to you MC's, this is what your gonna get 
A first degree burn from my man Ken's cigarette 
I hope you like Malboro, Paul you know we thorough like Denver 
The beat feels like a never-ender 
But all things good must, so I won't sweat it 
Drop the C's for the youthful crew, I hope you get it 
As I stand, grip this mic inside my hand 
Boy I smack you up, like I was your old grand 
so respect yourself Son, and come and gimme love 
Once again the Ab is who you think of 
So chill with the beef money, we got a Jetti 

Verse Three: Extra P (Large Professor) 

It's Extra P and yo Tip I'm bout to set it 
on the country once again here to win 
I'm Uptown chillin, takin in this grand master Vic blend 
from the projects, the PJ's, fuck them two DJ's 
Self mission, I had her in the ill position 
Saying "Large youse the soul brother that I'd like to 
eff with for the rest of my life" yeah yeah now check the method 
As I, proceed with what you need like Akinyele 
A whip looks complete when the tires say Firelli 
Funk monkey, one rapper fell off, now he's a junkie 
There's 8 Million Stories in the city it's a pity 
Don't fuck with the skins if she's trying to act shitty 
Shout to the Guru, Primo and Zulu Zulu 
Nation, was on a vacation, in the ghetto 
Yo Ras slow your roll I'm bout to bag this here's metal 
Rapper Nas on topic, seems we gonna rock it 
Queens represent, buy the album when I drop it (drop it)