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    "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

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