Where Fugees At?

(Uh-huh, uh-huh)

Feels good to be back at the Essence where it all started, you know? (Uh-huh, uh-huh)

What up Salaam? (Uh-huh, uh-huh)

Turn up my headphones, man (uh-huh, uh-huh)

I got a few things I wanna tell the people out there

Yo, yo, yo

All I hear is "Fugee this, Fugee that

Where Fugee At? I need Fugees to spit up on this track"

Lauryn if you're listenin', Pras if you're listenin'

Gimme a call, I'm in the lab, in the Booga Basement

Y'all know my style, I'm still mini, money, mini, mini

It ain't all about the money

When I whistle-ah, two dogs by my side, plus a black pistol-ah

Loud MCs, feel the silencer

Y'all still rhymin'? Y'all cuckoo, I send psychos to Bellevue

This ain't a sequel son, but I have you "Scream 2" (ahh!)

Real live cinema, the streets produced a junkie

Put back on your shirt, man, you lookin' like E.T

You're cracked out, for dough, some blow on saxophone

You're rhymin' off beat even with help from my metronomes

See? Y'all ain't MCs, you a CM

Common Motherfucker rhymin' about Lexus and Benz

The same Benz you got jacked in, drunk off of gin

You woke up in hell gettin' sexed by Marilyn Manson

You lie? You deny? Pass me the microphone

I guess like Eddie Murphy, you was givin' 'em a ride home

Yeah, right, 25 mics, material in The Source

While your rap crew's on steroids lookin' like Full Force

Your girl, she's buffed, puffed, in daytime, don't play rough

The freaks come out at night, so that's when I bring out the cuffs

Grand Marnier, CD player number two

Sade's in my bedroom singin' "Sweetest Taboo"

All I hear is "Fugee this, Fugee that

Where Fugee At? I need Fugees to spit up on this track"

Lauryn if you're listenin', Pras if you're listenin'

Gimme a call, I'm in the lab, in the Booga Basement

Y'all know my style, I'm still mini, money, mini, mini

It ain't all about the money

We used to rap, now y'all wanna come and get me with a bat?

Y'all must be smokin' crack, with Pookie from New Jack

How quick y'all forget, I'm the reason y'all MCs

But y'all flip like Pharisees and charge me for blasphemy

You know who you are, eight bar superstar

Karate cars, buy up the bars with the credit cards

You wanna impress some young chick you just met?

First thing she say, "Ain't you used to roll with Wyclef?"

Look surprised to see your flesh outside your vest?

Yeah, you could fight, in the WWF

'Cause in this arena ain't nothin' but gladiators and haters

Hoping they kill me and Roman feed me to the tigers

Oh Lord, protect me from the devil

They open the book of life, y'all readin' like the anti-Christ

You're weak kid, stop lyin' to the public

You wanted it so bad that you took all the production credits

Some MCs in the underground

Mad at me 'cause I'm above ground, counting English pounds

I tell y'all what, success don't come overnight

I was in Noah's Ark for 40 days and 40 nights

Contemplating, "What should I write? What should I recite?

'Cause ain't nobody here but thugs and chicks with ice"

That's when I daydream into the twilight

Girls with they man, screaming, "I hate life"

Baby girl, look in the opposite direction

'Cause my class is the "Misedu-"

All I hear is "Fugee this, Fugee that

Where Fugee At? I need Fugees to spit up on this track"

Lauryn if you're listenin', Pras if you're listenin'

Gimme a call, I'm in the lab, in the Booga Basement

Y'all know my style, I'm still mini, money, mini, mini

It ain't all about the money

(Uh-huh, uh-huh)

(Uh-huh, uh-huh)

It ain't all about the money