Oh My God

Listen up everybody, the bottom line

I'm a black intellect, but unrefined

With precision like a bullet, target bound

Just living like a hooker, the harlot sounds

Now when I say the harlot, you know I mean the hot

Heat of the equator, the broth that's in the pot

Jalick, Jalick ya wind up ya hip

Drafting of the poets, I'm the number seven pick

Licks, licks, licks boy 'pon your backside

Licks, licks, licks boy 'pon your backside

Listen to the fader, Shaheed lets it glide

Tip the earthly body, heaven's on my side

Even in Santo Domingo when I got a Gringo

We got mics, when do we go?

Know a little nigga who can rhyme when you ask me

Short, dark, and plus his voice is raspy

One for the treble, two for the bass

You know the style Tip, it's time to flip this

I like my beats hard like two day old shit

Steady eating booty MCs like cheese grits

My man, I'll be sure, he's in effect mode

Used to have a crush on Dawn from En Vogue

It's not like honey dip would wanna get with me

But just in case I own more condoms than T.L.C

Now the formula is this: me, Tip, and Ali

For those who can't count it goes one, two, three

The anti —, big up is who I be

Brothers find this hard to do but never me

Some brothers try to diss but Malik, you see 'em bitching

Me no care about them dibby MC, my shit is hitting

Trini gladiator, anti-hesitater

Shaheed push the fader from here to Grenada

Mr Energetic, who me sound pathetic?

When's the last time you heard a funky diabetic?

(I don't know man, I don't know man, I don't know man)

(I don't know, I don't know)

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Complementary are we, the three for poetry

I got a humdinger coming hook line and sinker

The Timbo hoofs with the prints on the ground

Timbos on the toes, I like the way it's going down

Down like a lady of the evening

When it goes in Toots just believe it's in

'Cause Queens is the county, Jamaica is the place

Take off your cleats 'cause you can't run the race

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes, oh my God

Oh my God, yes