Fu-Gee-La (How Many Mics) Songtext
von Fugees

(Where′s my shit? Where's my shit?)
Refugees

We used to be number ten, now we permanent at one
In the battle lost my finger, mic became my arm
Pistol nozzle hits your nasal, blood becomes lukewarm
Tell the woman be easy, nah squeeze the Charmin
Test Wyclef, see death flesh get scorned
Beat you so bad, make you feel like you ain′t wanna be born, Jean

And tell your friends stay the hell out of my lawn
Chicken George became Dead George stealin' chickens from my farm
Damn, another dead pigeon
If your mafiosos then I'm bringin′ on Haitian Sicilians
Nobody′s shootin', my body′s made of hand grenade
Girl bled to death while she was tongue-kissing a razor blade

That sounds sick, maybe one day I'll write a horror
Blackula comes to the ghetto, jacks an Acura
Stevie Wonder sees crack babies
Becoming enemies of their own families


Armageddon come, you know-a we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of Babylon
Tryin′ to front like you're down with Mount Zion

Ooh, la-la-la
It′s the way that we rock when we're doing our thing
Ooh, la-la-la
It's the natural la that the Refugees bring
Ooh, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Sweet thing (yeah)
(She love me like she never before, ayy)

Yeah, in saloons we drink Boone′s and battle goons ′til high noon
Bust rap tunes on flat spoons, take no shorts like poom poom's
See hoochies pop coochies, for Gucci′s and Lucci
Find me in my Mitsubishi, eatin' sushi, bumpin′ Fugees
Hey, hey, hey, try to take the crew and we don't play-play
Say, say, say like Paul McCartney, not hardly
Oddly enough, I can see right through your bluff
Niggas huff and they puff but they can′t handle us, we bust


'Cause we fortified, I could never hide
Seen "Cooley High", cried when Cochise died
I'm twisted, black-listed by some other negroes
Don′t remove my Polos on the first episode
Ha-ha-ha-ha, you shouldn′t diss refugees, and
Ha-ha-ha-ha, you whole sound set booty, and
Ha-ha-ha-ha, you have to respect Jersey
'Cause I′m superfly when I'm super-high on the Fu-Gee-La

Ooh, la-la-la
It′s the way that we rock when we're doing our thing
Ooh, la-la-la
It′s the natural la that the Refugees bring
Ooh, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Sweet thing (yeah, yeah)
(She love me like she never before, ayy) (burst it)

I sit 90 degrees underneath palm trees
Smokin' beadies as I burn my calories
Brooklyn rooftops become Brooklyn tee-pees
Who that be, enemy, wanna see the death of me
From Hawaii to Hawthorne, I run marathons, like
Buju Banton, I'm a true champion, like
Farakkhan reads his Daily Qu′ran, it′s a
Phenomenon, lyrics fast like Ramadan

What's goin′ on? Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of Babylon
Tryin' to front like you′re down with Mount Zion
What's goin′ on? Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of Babylon
Tryin' to front like you're down with Mount Zion

Ooh, la-la-la
It′s the way that we rock when we′re doing our thing
Ooh, la-la-la
It's the natural la that the Refugees bring
Ooh, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Sweet thing
(She love me like she never before, ayy)

Ooh, la-la-la
It′s the way that we rock when we're doing our thing
Ooh, la-la-la
It′s the natural la that the Refugees bring
Ooh, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Sweet thing
(She love me like she never before, ayy)

Yo kid, we gotta get our family together, man
You know, we gotta get organized
We just can't be out here, you know, just high and smoked up
And whatever, we gotta get our stuff organized
Whatever we gon′ do, we gotta do it right