Butter

[Verse 1: Phife Dawg] 1988 Senior Year, Garvey High Where all the guys were corny but the girls were mad fly Lounging with the Tipster, cooling with Sha Scoping out the honeys - they know who they are I was the b-ball playing, fly rhyme saying Fly girl getting but never was I sweating Cause when it came to honeys I would go on a stroll Until I met my match - her name was Flo Yeah, I messed around with the one called Flo All the troopers round the way used to call her a ho But deep down in my heart I knew that Flo was good to go Cause I thought it was me like Bell Biv Devoe But little did I know that she was playing with my mind The only thing I learned is good girls are hard to find I feel like Heavy D I need somebody for me Not someone whose mind is blank and trying to juice me for my banks Swinging with my main man Lucky behind my back What type of crap is that - yo, how's about a smack? Word life, I can't front, thought I was all that But now it seems, I've met my match I was a stone cold lover, you couldn't tell me jack Settling down with one girl, wasn't trying to hear that I had Tonya, Tamika, Sharon, Karen, Tina, Stacy, Julie, Tracy Used to love 'em, leave 'em, skeeze 'em, tease 'em Find 'em, lose 'em - also abuse 'em My whole attitude was new day, next hon And believe it or not, they all got done Well here comes Flo, with the crazy whip appeal And I'm all true man, like Alexander O'Neal Is this really love, then again how would I know After all this time trying to be a Super Ho She finally played me, but yo I'd find another Cause I got the crazy game and yo, I'm smooth like butter [Hook: Q-Tip] It's like butter, it's like butter baby (Repeat x6) Not no Parkay, not no margarine Strictly butter, strictly butter, baby [Verse 2: Phife Dawg] I remember when girls were goodie two shoes but now they turning freaks All of a sudden ("We love you Phife") Ease off ho, my name's Malik Phife this, Phife that, where you going, where you at These girls don't know me from jack, yet I feel like the Mack You didn't want me then, so yo hon, don't want me now Here, Here - take the towel, wipe off your brow And take the contact out your eye, you're far from looking fly You get an E for effort, and T for nice try Now tell me what's the reason, for dying your hair Slum village gold still dangling in your ear You barely have a neck but still sporting a rope Four-finger ring just so Phife can scope You looked in the mirror, didn't know what to do Yesterday your eyes were brown but today they are blue Your whole appearance is a lie and it could never be true And if you really liked yourself then you would try and be you If your hair and eyes were real, I wouldn't have dissed ya But since it was bought, I had to dismiss ya But if you can't achieve it, then why not try and weave it If you can't extend it then you might as well suspend it If you can't braid it, best thing to do is fade it I asked who did your hair and you tell me Diane made it If you were you and just you, talk to you, maybe But I can't stand, no bionic lady Trying hard to look fly, but yo, you're looking dumber If I wanted someone like you I would've swung with Jaime Sommers You wanna be treated right, see Father MC Or check Ralph Tresvant, for sensitivity Cause I am not the one, I got more game than Parker Brothers Phife Dog is on the mic and I'm smooth like butter