"I'm bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out" --> BizMarkie 
(repeat 4X) 

Phife: 

Them can't touch me no, them can't touch me 
Them can't hold me no, them can't hold me (2X) 
(Q-Tip: Damn, Phife you got fat!) 
Yeah, I know it looks pathetic 
Ali Shaheed Muhammad got me doing calisthenics 
Needless to say, boy I'm bad to the bone 
Making love to my mic like Jarobi on the phone 
But um, no time for jokes (what!), there's bills to be paid (what!) 
Hoes to be laid (what!), punks to be sprayed (what!) 
Chumps to attack, so my man watch your back 
Cuz '93 means skills are a must, so never lack (uh!) 
Sit back and learn, come now watch the birdie 
Your styles are incomplete, same as Vinny Testaverde 
Battlin, whenever -- hot Damn! 
Give me the microphone bwoy, one time, bam! 

Q-Tip: 

Keep it on the corner, cuz here comes the heat 
Lyrically it stays, the jazz will pace the beat 
As we proceed to elevate you, we in fo-fo 
Run and tell your dad the Abstract's the bag 
As we proceed to move your high parts, we know who has ass 
Poets got the gimmicks, but they lack the sassafras 
To make the average hardrock and cock the glock 
And roam the city streets on the jury, they hot 
I be ingredients, like sugar and candy 
If your life is broke, girl I'll be the handy-dandy 
That commends you, my fee is a shower 
For you, I'll scrub your back and I'll soap the butt-crack 
Make you shiny, spiffy in a jiff 
Fuckin with the Ab, you got the greatest of gifts 
Yo, my mic is sounding bug. Bob Power, you there?(Yeah) 
Adjust the bass and treble make my shit sound clear(echo) 

Chorus(x8): 
(Q-Tip: After fourth time) 
Make you shiny, spiffy in a jiff 
Fuckin with the Ab, you got the greatest of gifts 
A-yo, my mic is sounding bug. Bob Power, you there? 
Adjust the bass and treble...OK, could you come in Tip? 

Q-Tip: 

Whoop, back yourself man. Come watch me drop it 
For showing me I could do it, for showing me I can rock it 
Me not deal wit no changaram, bangaram business 
I got soul on a hymn, like Jehovah's got the witness 
Musically, the three, poetically, be me 
We in jammin on the airwaves, kids just rave 
Obey the MCs, cuz the MCs say 
We flippin more niggaz like we Super Dave 
But noticin my stature, y'all niggaz know we gotcha 
Movin to the rapture, listen how we catch ya 
Movin with the grace, here we go, let's begin 
Makin people jump out their goddamn skin 
Lyrically, we bite like we Rin Tin Tin 
Peace to Grand Pu and his many, many skins 
Don't mark with the arrow, cuz we know we get the wins 
It's the Ab, Shaheed, and the Dawg for the blend 

Chorus(until end): 

Q-Tip: 

I wanna say peace to my man Rob P, my man Jerod, and 
Skeff Anslem on the help out and we out like shout 
Nine-tre, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh... 
I don't wanna say nine-tre 
cause my man Extra P said don't say the years 
So, it's for eternity, know what I'm sayin? 
Rock rock on, everybody in Queens, rock rock on 
Everybody in Brooklyn, rock rock on 
Money Earnin Mt. Vernon, rock rock on 
Everybody in Jersey, rock rock on 
Everybody in Philly rock rock on 
Everybody in Houston, rock rock on 
Everybody LA, rock rock on 
Everybody in The Sand, rock rock on 
Everybody in Egypt, rock rock on 
Everybody Nigeria, rock rock on 
Everybody in London, rock rock on 
Everybody in Sweden, rock rock on 
Everybody in beware, rock rock on 
To the niggaz on the famous, rock rock on 
Everybody no name, rock rock on 
To the kids at Nu-Clear, rock rock on 
The Cave rock rock on. McDonald's, rock rock on