| Yo, Prince Paul
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| (yea)
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| Bust that groove
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| Well my name is Daddy-O, so Want you to know, what you want us to know
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| When I’m around, I’m doggin’the show
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| To pimp ya hand slips, I’m set to rip tits
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| The Rhyme-a-rator, king and I’m runnin’the ship
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| You niggas should leave, well who’s that?
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| Frukwan!
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| I got style and physique, see
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| Prince Paul, what, what, we know that you got guts
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| Let 'em know what’s up wit the scratch and cut
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| (Prince Paul scratches it up)
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| You got on and on and three steps ahead
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| Hot butter on, say what, the cornbread
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| Stet start troopin’wit the rhymes galore
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| You do the patty duke, til you can’t no more
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| Play after dark, and search to come in You might bump heads wit some of ya friends
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| And the D.J., he may blow ya mind
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| D.J. |
| Prince Paul, is one of a kind
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| With a little pat, we smack and then shalat
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| To a monk that hates, spit out the fact
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| That the crew is not a threat to society
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| But opportunity to make people feel hot beats
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| So we deliver the fun, take her way down un'
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| Make people gather round and shake their bun
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| And we never leave a jam til the job is done
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| And if you wanna fight that, we could go for some
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| Right to left, you right, he’s deaf
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| Fly girls in the corner, you shootin’ya best
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| So watch rock the show, so she says no Cuz she see the Prince Paul, cut sparks’ll flow
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| When these cuts are made, it go inside wit the fade
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| After that’s done, that’s when we get paid
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| It’s Stet prefect, Prince Paul is direct
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| And he cut’s the old school and that’s hi-tech
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| (instrumentation)
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| Dip-dip-dive, so-socialize
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| I didn’t teach to throw ya, threw some exercise
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| We did the push-up, the sit-up, the jumping jacks
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| And when we went through, we went around the tracks
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| But when you smoke that crack, you run like a snail
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| I didn’t teach a poet that we goin’to fail
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| But when the test came, you know we passed
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| Cuz we the best M.C.'s in the whole gym class
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| Up and down and all around
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| Now bust the rhythm of the Stetsa sound
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| Bring if you feel you wants to get snotty
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| Take a good look at the size of the party
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| It’s six on the mix and Human Percus'
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| D.B.C. |
| on the keys and the three will discuss, us Cuz we’re the must and the cuts we trust
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| Grand Wizard Prince Paul is ya vitamin plus
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| We go back and forth, and forth and back
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| Wit the rhyme on time, we cuttin’on slack
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| Wit the chance to advance, and hand yo dash
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| Wit the rhythm that’s flown from U.S. to France
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| We got the D.B.C. |
| to devastate the keys
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| And the light skinned brother on the mix machine
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| It’s not a funk machine that cause a heart attack
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| But the mighty Prince Paul on the old 8-track
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| It’s like that ya’ll, as personality wins
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| Frukwan, Delite, Daddy-O, best friends
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| You got the time — I got the time
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| You got the feeling — I got the shit on right…
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| Uh! |
| Uh-Uh-Uh! |
| — scratched up |