I'm bout to wreck ya body and say turn the party out" --> BizMarkie
   (repeat 4X)
  
   Phife:
  
   Them can't touch me no, them can't touch me
   Them can't hold me no, them can't hold me (2X)
   (Q-Tip: Damn, Phife you got fat!)
   Yeah, I know it looks pathetic
   Ali Shaheed Muhammad got me doing calisthenics
   Needless to say, boy I'm bad to the bone
   Making love to my mic like Jarobi on the phone
   But um, no time for jokes (what!), there's bills to be paid (what!)
   Hoes to be laid (what!), punks to be sprayed (what!)
   Chumps to attack, so my man watch your back
   Cuz '93 means skills are a must, so never lack (uh!)
   Sit back and learn, come now watch the birdie
   Your styles are incomplete, same as Vinny Testaverde
   Battlin, whenever -- hot Damn!
   Give me the microphone bwoy, one time, bam!
  
   Q-Tip:
  
   Keep it on the corner, cuz here comes the heat
   Lyrically it stays, the jazz will pace the beat
   As we proceed to elevate you, we in fo-fo
   Run and tell your dad the Abstract's the bag
   As we proceed to move your high parts, we know who has ass
   Poets got the gimmicks, but they lack the sassafras
   To make the average hardrock and cock the glock
   And roam the city streets on the jury, they hot
   I be ingredients, like sugar and candy
   If your life is broke, girl I'll be the handy-dandy
   That commends you, my fee is a shower
   For you, I'll scrub your back and I'll soap the butt-crack
   Make you shiny, spiffy in a jiff
   Fuckin with the Ab, you got the greatest of gifts
   Yo, my mic is sounding bug. Bob Power, you there?(Yeah)
   Adjust the bass and treble make my shit sound clear(echo)
  
   Chorus(x8):
   (Q-Tip: After fourth time)
   Make you shiny, spiffy in a jiff
   Fuckin with the Ab, you got the greatest of gifts
   A-yo, my mic is sounding bug. Bob Power, you there?
   Adjust the bass and treble...OK, could you come in Tip?
  
   Q-Tip:
  
   Whoop, back yourself man. Come watch me drop it
   For showing me I could do it, for showing me I can rock it
   Me not deal wit no changaram, bangaram business
   I got soul on a hymn, like Jehovah's got the witness
   Musically, the three, poetically, be me
   We in jammin on the airwaves, kids just rave
   Obey the MCs, cuz the MCs say
   We flippin more niggaz like we Super Dave
   But noticin my stature, y'all niggaz know we gotcha
   Movin to the rapture, listen how we catch ya
   Movin with the grace, here we go, let's begin
   Makin people jump out their goddamn skin
   Lyrically, we bite like we Rin Tin Tin
   Peace to Grand Pu and his many, many skins
   Don't mark with the arrow, cuz we know we get the wins
   It's the Ab, Shaheed, and the Dawg for the blend
  
   Chorus(until end):
  
   Q-Tip:
  
   I wanna say peace to my man Rob P, my man Jerod, and
   Skeff Anslem on the help out and we out like shout
   Nine-tre, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh...
   I don't wanna say nine-tre
   cause my man Extra P said don't say the years
   So, it's for eternity, know what I'm sayin?
   Rock rock on, everybody in Queens, rock rock on
   Everybody in Brooklyn, rock rock on
   Money Earnin Mt. Vernon, rock rock on
   Everybody in Jersey, rock rock on
   Everybody in Philly rock rock on
   Everybody in Houston, rock rock on
   Everybody LA, rock rock on
   Everybody in The Sand, rock rock on
   Everybody in Egypt, rock rock on
   Everybody Nigeria, rock rock on
   Everybody in London, rock rock on
   Everybody in Sweden, rock rock on
   Everybody in beware, rock rock on
   To the niggaz on the famous, rock rock on
   Everybody no name, rock rock on
   To the kids at Nu-Clear, rock rock on
   The Cave rock rock on. McDonald's, rock rock on