Fugees - Refugees On The Mic Lyrics
(Intro: Wyclef Jean)Yo', check it out, I want all the refugees out thereto just put up your mother*****in' hands, you know you're a *****in' immigrantPut up your hands youknowhatI'msayin'?I'ma start this shit off like this, this time around(Chorus: Wyclef Jean)H-to-the-A-to-the-I-to-the-T-to-the-ILive or die, it's nothin' but a dark sideFugees on the mic, yeah, yeahYo', refugees on the mic, oh yeah, oh yeahH-to-the-A-to-the-I-to-the-T-to-the-ILive or die, it's nothin' but a dark sideFugees on the mic, yeah, yeahYo', refugees on the mic, oh yeah, oh yeah(Wyclef Jean)If you wanna snap (SNAP), if you wanna crack (CRACK)If you wanna shoot, give me a second so I can lay flatCause this, some the cemetary's, the realityWhere the tough guys get buried in their propertyWord to Sampson, the tone will get you hungI had a friend, they murdered his father and his three-year-old sonI heard him cursin' the essence of the, the (PAUSE) committed the crimeBut ah, murder got no timeThe country has no law, it's either rich or poorI'm out the back door, I got nuttin' to fight forI'm sailin' on a boat like a goat - I clear my throatWhen I got to Brooklyn, I was broke, so I selled cokeI look in through microscope, for my country and the hurtMy eyes bleed, I see Aaron Steed, the Haitian PopeFigure or Dundee, the-riginal Malcom XSwing like the ki's, so should I put on David TomerfestThough I'm humberlicious strugglin' to jumplet me blow her upper-her bubble in your face - that'cha ego!Aiyyo, freeze-funk, you got to stay stableWatch out for the devil, he comes after you after the revivalWhen will he come, what will he do, what will he say?That's all a mystery, but have your hand grenadeso you can blow the mother*****er awayBeep, beep, I gotta make a sale so I can eatSo Praswell, grab the mic and be complete(Pras)Huh, lovin' the wreck in effect, will be all in checkmateAnother style for Praswell to translateFor those who can't relate to stay down my - no-man waitNo mistake, when I tell you, your prophet is a fake(Wyclef Jean)You said a contract on a Haitian, three-hundred g'sYour sharpshooters are lousy, we mend to-high-be-high hoodiesSo show your face-a when you waste, I know who's smokin'The bigger that you try to put out yours just makes me Mr. NobodyTake high wit'cha just right, it'll be like Michael get ordered, a viper you know!!Yeah, a viper cause you might lose a life to the side by likewhat did I have to in the line of the barkin' of the bright sideYou tried to scare me but I won't mover-aThe bully of the block becomes the hour of the glockSo cuckoo!! The sounds I run are rollin' with the bodyguardBut don't forget the day it's sunny but it'll be foggyAnd in the funeral, you'll be singin' a new tuneMay your soul rest on the moon (?Jack in wood spoon!!?)In Channel Seven, you said: "Death before Cut"You killed so many that your conscience ended up - whattup? (WHAT!!)Aiyyo black men, you're dyin' by a dozen cousinSo all I do is walk away yo' Prince as if nothin' happenedYou call me a punk, I gotta step cause all you did was flexBut don't get closer cause the kid still gotta keep his repSee I'm known for the crew like the jewel was the jewelLike the follow got the boo, like the miller got the booLet the fool cop the man-jewel, suck up, up the ?cool-lew?Oh why you got the ha-ha-lew-lew?I got the rap loose, so sci-bi-dee-bob-bob, you don't stopYou do the rap-rap, from hip-hop to be-bop, from be-bopto beep-beep, the Haitian kid, beeper's goin' off beep-beepI gotta make a sale so I can eat, beep, beepThe Haitian kid, beeper's goin' off, you know I got no time to sleep, so beep-beep(Chorus: Wyclef Jean)H-to-the-A-to-the-I-to-the-T-to-the-ILive or die, it's nothin' but a dark sideFugees on the mic, YEAH!!Yo', refugees on the mic, oh yeah, oh yeah(Pras)Man, I went to cops the other day to plead for my innocenceThey brought me in another charges of a legal residentsAnd L-E-N, on a foreign land, a ????Watch me go back to my land and then there will be a thingGorillas in the mist, where everything, and the light becomes a priestThey put up they guard, they pump up they fistsNow I'm number one on they mother*****in' hit-list...Goin' down for first degree of manslaughterMakin' change out of emcee's makin' them outta quartersThat's they value, that's what they worthCause the first shall be last and the last shall be first, yeahWhat we learned was to burn, now cause you c-camewith that machette, it's your turnIt's not funny, but twenty a month is what you earn baby(We on to the Yankee, pass the mic to the "Yankee")(Lauryn Hill)Well I'm as cool to ya the mic I'm checkin' comin' from my templeWith a message, to deliver, but the back is very simpleI'm the girl "Yankee" rollin' wit' the kids from Haiticoolin' as a mighty grab who gets the last laugh hahaha...You bite size with my Haitian from they stinks as my "Yankee"wonderin' who was the first to pull over girl as soon as it came out sonMy history - a hypocrite, so what we gonna do?The dope is dope is only get the man since that is trueSo hip-hip with my lip as I rip with a felt tipwith a righteous situation, interpretation, a graduationYour ventilation, and education, segregation, emancipationa capitalization, it's agration, not separation, ya breath the Haitians...H-to-the-A-to-the-I-to-the-T-to-the-I...
