Oh My God (feat. Busta Rhymes)

Ho-psh, ho-psh-psh

Listen up, everybody, the bottom line

I'm a Black intellect, but unrefined

With precision like a bullet, target bound

Just livin' like a hooker, the harlot sounds

Now when I say the harlot, you know I mean the hot

Heat of the equator, the broth that's in the pot

Jalick, Jalick, ya wind up ya hip

Draftin' of the poets, I'm the number seven pick

Licks, licks, licks, boy, pon your backside

Licks, licks, licks, boy, pon your backside

Listen to the fader, Shaheed lets it glide

Tip the earthly body, Heaven's on my side

Even in Santo Domingo when I got a Gringo

We got mics, when do we go?

Know a little **** who can rhyme when you ask me

Short, dark, and plus his voice is raspy (Phife)

One for the treble, two for the bass

You know the style, Tip, it's time to flip this

I like my beats hard like two day old shit

Steady eatin' booty MCs like cheese grits

My man Al B. Sure, he's in effect mode

Used to have a crush on Dawn from En Vogue

It's not like honey dip would wanna get with me

But just in case, I own more condoms than TLC

Now the formula is this, Me, Tip and Ali

For those who can't count, it goes one-two-three

The anti—, big up is who I be (Damn, right I'm s—)

Brothers find this hard to do, but never me

Some brothers try to diss, but Malik, you see 'em bitchin'?

Me nah care about dem dibby MC, my shit is hittin'

Trini gladiator, anti-hesitater

Shaheed push the fader from here to Grenada

Mr. Energetic, who me, sound pathetic?

When's the last time you heard a funky diabetic?

I don't know, man, I don't know, man, I don't know, man

I don't know, I don't know

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Complementary are we, the three for poetry

I got a humdinger comin' hook, line and sinker

The Timbo hoofs with the prints on the ground

Timbo's on the toes, I like the way it's goin' down

Down like a lady of the evening

When it goes in, toots, just believe it's in

'Cause Queens is the county, Jamaica is the place

Take off your cleats, 'cause you can't run the race

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

Oh, my God, yes, oh, my God

The title MC means Master of Ceremony

Some people who emcee don't know what this term means