| Look into the rhyme | |
| Rum to the ripple | |
| Sing boo, | |
| But at times I come in triple. | |
| Blaow, blaow put the heater to your head | |
| Now your dead. | |
| Wyclef don't give a *beep* if your dead. | |
| Raaaaah, raaaah | |
| Let me attack just like the black cat | |
| You in the wrong neighborhood, check the map. | |
| Hooo, you've got to go for backup | |
| To do what you gotta do. | |
| So you'll be back with France CU | |
| Traitor in your crew is mafo heat | |
| Put the poison in your tea | |
| and kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede | |
| I'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo | |
| Awoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what. | |
| Competition, stimulation for the rap man | |
| Losers check your tooters | |
| While I'm suckin' on your girls hooters. | |
| Don't play macho, while you got the gun | |
| Cause if you got to reload . . . | |
| [CLEF] | |
| Wyclef the multi-talented | |
| Average heads can't handle it | |
| I'll bring it to you live | |
| Only if you want it. | |
| Me and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's | |
| [C'mon check out my melody] | |
| The W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef | |
| Through any contest | |
| I'm victorious | |
| Still keep it real, if you will and manifest | |
| Through your skills, not by how many shells you peel. | |
| [PRAZ] | |
| I'm a bring down the ruckus | |
| Play the nutcracker | |
| Rough-neck rednecks make me no bother | |
| Time after time, ask Cyndi Lauper, | |
| Boss, you don't want to **** with my partners | |
| Motion, commotion, what's your proposal | |
| Uphold two-fold, the crew is disposal | |
| Like utensil, false idental, | |
| I autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil | |
| [LAURYN] | |
| I'm the L, Won't you pull it | |
| Straight to the head | |
| With the speed of a bullet | |
| Cuttin' jokers off at the meeky-freeky gullet | |
| Lyrical sedative, keep niggas medative | |
| Head rushers I give to creative kids and fiends | |
| Dreams of euphoria, | |
| Aurora, | |
| To another galaxy | |
| Phallic-sy | |
| Be this microphone, but get lifted | |
| Lyrically I'm gifted | |
| Burn on in without the roach clip (it) | |
| Henders, mind-bender | |
| Pleasure sender, | |
| So frequently your nerve endings belong to me | |
| Wrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke | |
| Wack niggas choke | |
| >From the fumes that I emote, | |
| Or emit shit | |
| See even I feel the mahogany L | |
| Natural hallucinogen | |
| Turning boys to men again | |
| With estrogen dreams | |
| Release blues, yellows and greens | |
| >From Brownsville to Queens | |
| [DIAMOND-D] | |
| I creep like a theif, no doubt the man's swift | |
| I'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff | |
| You stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff | |
| [We know where to run] | |
| And start flakin' like dandruff. | |
| C'mon son my steelo's tight | |
| Cause by far I'm the best producer on the mic | |
| On the right, analytical conceptions | |
| With precision and leave lyrical incisions. |
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