God Lives Through

[Hook] "Oh my God!" [Verse 1: Phife Dawg] There's a million MCs that claim they want some But see I create sounds that make your ears go numb Peace to Sayres Ave., yeah you know how we go My best friend Steven at the Home Depot Laurelton is in the house, I can't forget Southside Walk past MCs like that girl did to Pharcyde I'm labeled as the cat's meow, the MC with the know-how Act like you know, not now but right now Beast of the East, on MCs I have a feast I'd eat that ass like quiche, crack a smile like Shanice Straight outta Jamaica, seen? Jamaica, Queens But you could find me out in Georgia, or anywhere in between Now if my partners don't look good, Malik won't look good If Malik don't look good, then Quest won't look good If the Quest don't look good, then Queens won't look good But since the sounds are universal, New York won't look good Picture Phife losing a battle, come on, get off it Put down the microphone son, surrender, forfeit Did I hear something 'bout a crew? What they wanna do? You better call Mr. Babyface so he can bring out the cool in you Or it'll be a sad love song being sung by Toni Braxton And I'll dissect you like a fraction Oh, you wannabe top cat MCs, I'll pop you like a zit You wanna be the champ, you more like Chief Some-shit Big up myself every time when it comes to this MCs be running scared as if they're watching the Exorcist I kick more game than a crackhead from Hempstead My styles are milk, man, you'd think that I was breast-fed You know the steelo when the diggy Dawg is on the scene I dedicate this to all the MCs outta Queens That goes for Onyx, LL, Run DMC Akinyele, Nasty Nas and the Extra P You need a chart, straight up and down man, there ain't no other Nuff respect to all my peeps that made the album cover Yo, Tip don't worry none you know I get the party jumping Get on the mic and break 'em off a little little something Yo, Tip don't worry none you know I gets the party jumping Get on the mic my man and break 'em off a little something [Hook] [Verse 2: Q-Tip] We got the funk doody don shit, clearly it's the bomb shit So recognize me, kids memorize me Everyday, I be scrounging, really I be lounging I play the down low, very very incognito Aries is my sign, I know that I can rhyme Sometimes I rhyme in riddles, plus I make the honeys wiggle Intellect is the major, some heads like to wager The skills on the hill, overlooking dollar bills Man, you're crazy, thinking you can phase me The Ab doesn't study mere nonsense, money Life seems to need me, MCs seem too cheesy With their doody ass renditions of defeating competition I rock to the roll man, yes, I'm a soul man Bet your bottom dollar Vinia will make you holler As you stand at attention, did I forget to mention MCs will give me twenty if I sense that they act funny Lyrics are abundant, right there, I sound redundant Just mentioning the fact that the area is fat I dwell in the under, so honey it's no wonder That I get plenty of tail, well I even get white I'mma bet hitting head crack, there money, take that Breaking niggas off, cut their bank, then I'm off While my Nikes match my Lo hat, beat joint is mad fat Got the cutter of the box if a kid think he's ox For tier means creator, the poetry relator It's hemmed like Betsy Ross, let me tell you who's the boss [Hook] [Outro: Q-Tip] Queens got a... Brooklyn got a... Bronx got a... Staten Island got a... Long Island got the zone Jersey got a... Philly got a... Milwaukee got a... L.A. got a... Oaktown got the zone