Oh My God

I don't know man, I don't know man
Oh, my God, oh, my God

Trainin' gladiator, anti-hesitater
But just in case I own more condoms than TLC
And I care 'bout them booty MCs, my shit be hittin'
I got a humdinger comin' hook, line and sinker
Oh, my God, oh, my God
Oh, my God, oh, my God

Steady eatin' booty MCs like cheese grits

For those who can't count it goes one, two, three
See, this is how we do when we keep it on and on
Do what

Oh, my God, oh, my God
Queens got it's own and Brooklyn got it's own
Draftin' of the poets, I'm the number seven pick

It's not like honey dip would wanna get with me
We work hard
When's the last time you heard a funky diabetic?
Oh, my God, oh, my God
Mister Energetic, who me, sound pathetic?
Heat in the equator, the brothers in the pot
Tribe Called Quest and we the Midnight Marauders
Oh, my God, oh, my God

The Timbo hits with the prints underground

We A Tribe Called Quest and we the Midnight Marauders
Now the formula is this, me, Tip and Ali
Oh, my God, oh, my God
One for the treble, two for the bass

Take off your boots 'cuz you can't run the race
Aiyo, we out 'cuz we the Midnight Marauders
Listen up everybody, the bottom line
With precision like a bullet, target bound
Oh, my God, oh, my God
Listen to the fader, Shaheed let's it glide
I'm a black intellect but unrefined
Licks, licks, licks, boy pon your backside
Shaheed push the fader from here to Granada

Yo, we about to jet
Oh, my God, oh, my God
Brothas find this hard to do but never me
Just livin', like a hooker, the harlot sounds
Yo, we got mics, when do we go?

Tip the earthly body, heaven's on my side

Short, dark, plus his voice is raspy
Some brothas try to dis Malik, you see'm catchin' me
The answer, big up is who I who
Oh, my God, oh, my God
My man Big Mo with the streets and Caprice
Oh, my God, oh, my God
Down like the lady of the evenin'

Know a little nigga who can rhyme when you ask me
Got my man, Big Mo with the streets and the papes
Oh, my God, oh, my God
Even in Santo Domingo, man I gotta Gringo
Timbo's on the toes, I love the way it's goin' down
Jalick, Jalick ya wind up ya hip

Used to have a crush on Dawn from En Vogue
Licks, licks, licks, boy pon your backside

I like my beats harder than two day old shit
Complimentary, The Thief of Poetry
'Cuz we got to do it like this, we aim to please
We A Tribe Called Quest and we the Midnight Marauders
My man Al B. sure, he's in effect mode
You know my style Tip, now watch me rip this
This is how we do when we keep the wildin' sheets
See ya next LP and next CD and next cassette

See ya next time 'cuz we the Midnight Marauders
Oh, my God, oh, my God

Go to the record store and get the shit

And when it goes in, honey, just believe the sin
Now when I say the harlot, you know I mean the hot
I don't know man, I don't know, I don't know
'Cuz Queens is the county, Jamaica is the place
Oh, my God, oh, my God