Vocab (remix instrumental) Songtext
von Fugees

You got the vocab, I got the vocab
You got the vocab, you know I got the vocab
You got the vocab, I got the vocab
Hey yo, pass the mic, so I can tell ′em I got the gift of gab

Monkey see, monkey what? Monkey, monkey be yourself
Monkey see, monkey what? Monkey, monkey be yourself
Monkey see, monkey what? Monkey, monkey be yourself
Hey yo, catch me when I'm sober, but now I drink for the belt

So pass the root straight to the right-hand side
Make no mistake that the buzz is a natural high
I said it′s big emergency mind your busy body
He hit me, I broke his nose, the referee is Mr. Fuji
So, I head to the Blue Jay, mocking bird don't mock
The last bird who mocked he got caught in my roughneck chicken pot
So Mr. Rooster gave me a crooked-croo at 6 a.m


He looked at me a laughin', said my music would make F.M station
You′re Haitian, you′ll never get nowhere
But I sweared on my grandmother grave, we'd be here
So now when I back track
I back track for rhythm to make a nigga run and leave his tongue back
You think I′m cool, I think you're cruel, so here′s a shell cap
On your gluteus maximus and leave ya handicapped

Rat-at-at-at, you got the vocab, I got the vocab
You got the vocab, you know I got the vocab
You got the vocab, I got the vocab
Hey yo, pass the mic, so I can tell 'em I got the gift of gab

Yo, hobop-so-bop leave the boat for the pope, ya
Hobop-so-bop, I leave the boat for the pope, yo
Hobop-so-bop, leave the boat for the pope
Boat people here we go hi-de-hi-de-hi-de-ho, yeah

Some quest for the truth, some bust-a-loop
And search for some knowledge that come runnin′ in the woods
And if I shoulda choose to be one, then I will be a
Thinkaholic with books and look to kill
My proof is in my puddin'
If I chill in the hood, would you be sayin' that I′m hoodin′?


Now, let me exercise a new style that will brutalize
MCs into a warpath genocide
Nobody move, nobody get hurt, it's a homocide
So jump, jump punks ready to get snuck
Evel Knievel was my man, someone for the stunts
I′m mostly fillies, I'm just straight up front, ha

But ya tryin′ to light up, you get blast like nitrogen
Runnin' for mercy, runnin′ for oxygen
Bad LA meat, you're better off comittin' suicide
I shoot the lip so high I strip you of your carbon dioxide
′Rock-a-bye′ is the lullaby he be singin' ′oh my'
Boof baff another son a go die

What′s the matter with the black man? (Black man)
What's the matter with the black man? (Black man)
Now a statistic, so dreams of her become realistic
Bombastic he′s mystic, you don't believe you checked the psychic
Emancipate your mind, don't set the limit, reach the summit
Free your spirit ′cause you′re blunted from the lyrics, I just stuttered

'Live off the streets′ says the brother with the machete
'Live off the lady′ says the brother with the Glock in patrol
I live logically, no weak slave to poverty 'cause
You see, it′s very easy to slip between the asphalt sheet
Brothers from my way, they used to get mad plays
'Til they caught us bustin' doughnuts ′til the break of day

Brother, my brother, you played me undercover
She wouldn′t be your lover, so now you tried to dis her
The sister, you missed her but ask yourself a question
Can I make a suggestion? I need a true confession
Is she skins? 'Cause the skin that she′s in makes you sin?
Do ya hit her just to get her integrate another sister?

Mister, I asked him for a hanky, he asked if he could spank me
So why'd you disrespect me, sir?
Were you thinking I′m misguided or were you tryin' to hide it
That you had no father figure
Which, check out your wackiness, it won′t distrust my blackness
I woulda for a smack, but don't think that it would help this

What's the matter with the black man (black man)
All original gunman dem original goat (baa)
All original gunman dem original goat (baa)
Come jackin′ it up and I bad and me fell in ma booby trap
With a rappin′ up for the eight track, play back, laid back, sit back
And I'll trade you for - riddin′ his act, as a matter a fact
Comes trappin' ′em back like a cool six-pack, now bring it back, yo

Woah! United we stand, divided we crumble
What's the flavor? More Babylon, more Babylon, more Babylon fall
United we stand, divided we crumble
What′s the flavor? More Babylon, more Babylon, more Babylon fall

These days every man want to be a god
Lay down the gun every man on the floor
But the real gunman, him not play Hollywood role
Because he pull out his gun and slayed another boy down
Watch your speed, another gunman go bleed
Watch your speed, if I U-turn
Watch your speed, me up fi comin' ready
Watch us bleed, watch us for original translator crew
Oh, eh, every time we come, we come correct, see
We out