The Fugees - Nappy Heads (Remix) | Текст песни

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• The Fugees
• Nappy Heads (Remix)

[Wyclef]
Yo, Mona Lisa, could I get a date on Friday?
And if you're busy, I wouldn't mind taking
Saturday
Round up de posse, Fugee comin' around the way.

[Wyclef]
Yo, hey, nappy head.

[Lauryn]
Yo, whats up?

[Wyclef]
What you got there?

[Lauryn]
I got some of that lyrical cheeba cheeba.

[Wyclef]
Word?

A cheeba cheeba, y'all, well, I'm a Libra, y'all.
A cheeba cheeba, y'all, well, I'm a Libra, y'all.

[Wyclef]
You want to battle swing? I bring commanding men, like I was king.
In all your dreams I write the horror flick of Stephen King.
Cling to false, also those papers say ock.
I got tired of the fat lady so I sing to my own opera.
Ba-lang-balang-balang-to-de-man-de-rock-'cause I love thee.
If you live by the sword, you will be die by the gun,
'Cause all guys tell lies, and more girls commits it.
I was ordered to code red, but now I'm chillin' with a few good men.
***assination on the kid from the capitol.
I never play the soap opera, but now I'm a general hospital.
Condition critical, spirit over who's the physical.
So if I die, catch me at the funeral.
I'll fly away, oh glory,
With a mic in my hand, to a land where only God knows me,
And the angels write raps on holy paper.
I said: I'm lookin for Jesus, he said: take the escalator
One flight up, is guaranteed you'll be there.
My sister'd be there, my mother'd be there.
So, Mona Lisa, could I get a date on Friday?
And if you're busy, I wouldn't mind taking
Saturday-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay.
Round up de posse, Fugee comin' around de way.

[Lauryn Hill]
I don't puff blunts, so I always got my breath.
Never had to battle with a bullet proof vest.
They call me ****-weasel, but I still cave a chest.
I don't wear Jheri curls, 'cause I'm nah from the West.
No disrespect to the West, true indeed,
I rock it to the East, the East is the seed.
To see that them days back, yo sheepskins and hot tracks.
Peace to Mr. Magic, things are getting tragic.
Now we on some new stuff, I never feared the Ku Kluk.
My own clan is actin' up, I blame it on the Phillie blunt.
Whatcha gonna do, kids are acting oooohhhh.
Hill is gettin' fed up, yo, where's the coporate at?
A mister three-piece-suit.
Check the square roots, Girbauds and Timberland boots.
Nah, that's the serpents, and know them garment tips.
I got a head full of problems and a hand full of nappy roots.
I feel a Jones' comin' down, yo I

(I got the slang to make the chitty-bang-bang
A rid-dang-de-dang, the nappy head bang.)
No I, got the slang to make the chitty-bang-bang
A rid-dang-de-dang, the nappy heads bang.)

Yo, Mona Lisa, could I get a date on Friday?
And if you're busy, I wouldn't mind taking
Saturday
Round up de posse, Fugee comin' 'round de way,
Nappy heads in the zone and we're not goin' home!

[Prazwell & Wyclef]
Hey, yo, a battle is a battle but a battle's not a battle.
If it's snake doesn't rattle,
'Cause my style's as old as a reptile.
As slick as a new Nile, as new as a new child.
So come follow me to the land of Abraham.
This land's your land, this land's my land.
The blacker the black man, the better the next man.
(Yo, some nappy heads need to check they necks for red.)

I feel injection,
Put the needle to your skin, feel reality's heroin.
You maintain to put a negro in pain, you used to diss me.
"Oh, you want to hang with old Eddie Kane?" (The Five Heartbeats.)
Ain't nuttin' wrong, snap your head to the song.
Word is bond, you get wrong, I'll have you sing like Louis Armstrong.
And I say to myself, what a wonderful world,
But what the hell was so wonderful 'bout cotton in the farm?
Mr. Slave Man!
The harder the

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