Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Ali Shaheed Muhammad
Ali Shaheed Muhammad
DJ
Biz Markie
Biz Markie
Sampled Artist
Phife Dawg
Phife Dawg
Vocals
Q-Tip
Q-Tip
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Steve Arrington
Steve Arrington
Songwriter
V. Godsey
V. Godsey
Songwriter
Ali Shaheed Muhammad
Ali Shaheed Muhammad
Songwriter
Buddy Hankerson
Buddy Hankerson
Songwriter
Kamaal Fareed
Kamaal Fareed
Songwriter
Malik Izaak Taylor
Malik Izaak Taylor
Songwriter
Marcel Hall
Marcel Hall
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
A Tribe Called Quest
A Tribe Called Quest
Producer
Bob Power
Bob Power
Mixing Engineer
Brad Schmidt
Brad Schmidt
Assistant Engineer
Chris Flam
Chris Flam
Assistant Engineer
Eric Gast
Eric Gast
Assistant Engineer
George Spatta
George Spatta
Assistant Engineer
Gerard Julien
Gerard Julien
Assistant Engineer
Hoover Le
Hoover Le
Assistant Engineer
Patrick Derivaz
Patrick Derivaz
Assistant Engineer
Pete Christensen
Pete Christensen
Assistant Engineer
Tom Coyne
Tom Coyne
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out Them can't touch me, no, them can't touch me Them can't hold me, no, them can't hold me Them can't touch me, no, them can't touch me Them can't hold me, no, them can't hold me 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 '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 Keep it on the corner c'uz 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 I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out I'm 'bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out 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 MC's 'cuz the MC's 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 And 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 L.A., 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 This concludes midnight program Press any key to return to the main menu
Writer(s): Antonio Hardy, Marlon Williams, Kamaal Fareed, Malik Taylor, Ali Muhammad Jones, Bizmarkie Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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