Let The Horns Blow
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Yo, one for your mother, two for your pops
Three's for the niggas that's tryin' to kill the cops
So bust it, the Black Sheep are here
Put the corner on the copy or E-S-O
Yes, I guess they're back and watch the track and roll
In transition, a pubic hair in Kessin
I tell your mama I love you if you thought my style was missin'
Not Snoopy, groupie, Casper or Punky
You're rollin' with dreads, the Black
Sheep guy says my breath is freakin' funky
I know you wanna test me
But, but, but please don't try to sub me
'Cause way before you ever get to snuff me
Beretta to the head and yo, you better be on your jet ski
I never could be the ruler but like Rick I say I'm slick
You're just a backwards kid, excuse me, I meant to say a dick
So now you got beef and broccoli, your ribs are cockaly
But we got style, we keep eighteen or yet two-nine
So let the horns blow 'cause you know that you're just a barkin' dog
Bark all along, Prince Snow or Frog
Don't play post because we both know you're cowards
I be the drama so watch the Wonderama
Catch a dipstick sweeter when I call her mamacita
Not a lover, a fighter, no need for lovin' me
See, didn't like the Brady Bunch, for many years I had a hunch
Livin' like the Givens, big thanks for big banks
I'm stickin' like a dish swash fish when I shanks
Maximum is maximized, minimum is none
You wanna shoot the breeze, please pass the keys to Biggie's gun
Not the vigilante, I'm walkin' with a stamp
Wanna hit the yes I can can and never say I can't
I wear the Neil diamonds and fucks what Simon says
Heck the freak the fat so I cut some of my dreads
But back again they come just a little sooner
To become one nation under the groove
Oh, I feel the Clinton soothin' me like Lipton tea
And it's definitely under the groove
I'm feelin' kinda hyper like my man Lonnie Piper
Rainin' with the raps so hit the window wiper
Tallyho brothers, go once on my cypher
Don't babysit the bottle or I hit you with the viper
Never took a smoke, I don't even own a lighter
If it's any pipe I'm lightin', it's the pipe that goes inside of her
Check the B-L-I-Y, Mr. That's Alright
A break time from the rhyme 'cause now I'm actin' out of sight-a
Yeah, it's B-Nuts and Phash
It's the Beatnuts, yo, check it out
Snort up a key, yo, better sex in Rio
Bashin' Jew unless I make a third of the trio
Feel it P, feel it Phife, feel it Poe, feel it Funk
I smell props, hit 'em hard and then I come
Love to eat her skin but first I inspect it
Not a criminal, man, no, don't gotta wreck it, go and check it
Or you can get ate up, pass me a plate of
A little seafood I find up on a ring of data
So never start a track without B-Nuts on the list
Brothers buck shots point blank and still miss
Millie miss, Millie miss, why would I ever diss?
Fellas who fight for peace and fight for it with fists
Ayo, hug your bear, do your manage and do your damage
I'd let you tell the story but first give you a bandage
'Cause you could go for miles and miles and miles
And talk more trash than the dog doodle piles
In a kennel and I say when'll or when he stop
But let me see your girl and better believe the drawers'll drop
'Cause gettin' freaky a B-Nuts thing that is
So let the horns blow 'cause that's what time it is
Yes, now here it is, it's the one
Phife Dawg from the Tribe Called Quest
And I give a shouts out to my son DJ Phife Jr
And my girl Diane and I reckon like this
Yo, talkie talkie diamond, guess who's next?
The five-footer assassin with the microphone check
I'm all that and more 'cause there never was calm
Play Mr. Bad and you shall get stomped
I had a head full of hair but I kept all my rhymes
A brother from Queens and yo, I always gets mine
No shorts are bein' taken, no, not this year
The Phife Dawg is here so you better beware
Conceited? I guess it's somethin' like that
'Cause God don't make no junk so I know I ain't wack
So relax and chill, sit your booty still
Or just take the loss like the Buffalo Bills
Put one up for the Phifer, long time since you heard that
Suckers run around talkin' 'bout they can burn that
Soft MC, he can't be talkin' to me
'Cause I'm far from a wuss and I never was a puss
I grab the mic, MCs start to get petrol
'Cause there's no MC like Phife, like no soup like Progresso
Over your back, now give no slack, see what I'm sayin', son?
There's more that is here than bein' short, dark and handsome
Messin' with my lady, you know that that's a no-no
Why? Because you can't mess with my yo-yo
You know that I'm the one, you know that I'm the boss
I'm in there (Like a god) nah, like Prego sauce
Well it's me, T-L-E, and I'm last to spark
Yo, everywhere I go I gets bought by NARC
And TNT just can't understand
To see a brother with gear, a beeper and in his pocket a grand
But enough of that, let me break it down
We are all black brothers on a quest, yes, we do have soul
Some of us are hoin', some are on the positive roll
Me, I'm hoin', on the mic I'm flowin'
With the tongue and we are constantly goin'
Now when I'm in a battle, I just be havin' fun
The competition be so scared that they be whiter than Pum
Now you heard me flow to a nice tempo so
So let the horns blow