| Song | 3 MCs |
| Artist | Da Bush Babees |
| Album | Gravity |
| 作词 : Dillon, Fareed, Hanna, Lee | |
| (feat. Q-Tip) | |
| [Mr. Man] | |
| Hey yo, MC am I | |
| People call me Man | |
| I'm everywhere like air, so watch as I expand | |
| Live and direct from out the Flatbush lands | |
| 'Cause I got more rhymes than the beach got sand | |
| [Lee Majors] | |
| (who you be son?) | |
| Well yo MC am I; people call me "L" | |
| Can't forget the double-e Major I rock well | |
| In '86 used to sport Pumas wit' Gazelles | |
| '96: Yo, I just rock mics and excel | |
| [Q-Tip] | |
| Hey yo, MC a b people call me air | |
| See me on Jamaica Ave. sippin' half-and-half | |
| I got a special-issued mic that's guaranteed steel | |
| Bustin' rhymes at the crowd to make the shorties feel | |
| [All] | |
| (Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it) | |
| It's the 3 MCs | |
| You know we hold these mics tight | |
| We the 3 MCs | |
| We do it right e' night | |
| With a scratch | |
| And a cut | |
| We 'bout to tear shit up | |
| [Mr. Man] | |
| See most of y'all really do not know how you should operate | |
| You need to contemplate 'cause you really cannot stop the wait | |
| Just cooperate | |
| Let me select the path | |
| You do not know the half simply 'cause you don't know the math | |
| On how to automate the graph | |
| So follow the leader | |
| The 9-Ether--rapper's get split like amoeba | |
| By the fire-breather | |
| Get burned beyond recognition | |
| It's Mr. Man the accurate be blurrin' up your vision | |
| [Lee Majors] | |
| I pack a .45 caliber hollow-tipped pen | |
| Make 'em say "What happen when he be rappin'?" | |
| Make a move son. I kill bystanders and all | |
| Check the autops'(y) the words that I dropped in his skull | |
| If you want a nigga draw, pull out your best rhymes | |
| Make your same gun-finger turn into peace sign | |
| Came back with tips swallowed | |
| Hip-hop Puritan show these niggas how you drop it | |
| [Q-Tip] | |
| We 'bout to drop it like the Pharcyde or Reggie Miller | |
| Camouflage on--rescuin' rap guerilla | |
| Tricklin' down: verb, noun cascade | |
| Precious as jade, never heard the word 'fade' | |
| Positive vibes is way too influential | |
| Wack rhyme sayers need to keep it confidential | |
| Kick it up like tornadoes | |
| Trash cats get tomatoed | |
| Beat you like Bruno | |
| Watch yo' eye get the tape | |
| It was a Friday night | |
| And no moves was bein' fakin' | |
| And the people was breakin' | |
| And the house was shakin' | |
| And it won't be long 'til e'body knowin' | |
| That the 3 MCs was on the mic | |
| [Mr. Man] | |
| Check me out, boy, in high-speed or slo'-mo' | |
| Came down to Earth to rock this ill promo' | |
| Never sound wack on tape, 'cause that's a no-no | |
| So turn me up loud | |
| And put the needle to the | |
| [Lee Majors] | |
| With all of these | |
| Pimps, players, mafiosos, and G's | |
| Make me wonder "Is there any room for just a MC?" | |
| Same shit, different beat; can't take it no more | |
| You and your man bought the same rhyme from the same store | |
| [Q-Tip] | |
| You bought it from the same store | |
| And kicked the rhyme until your throat's sore | |
| Now we got to up the ante much, much more | |
| Allah put us all here for a reason | |
| We 'bout to change the seasons | |
| From these three you'll never smell treason | |
| [Mr. Man] | |
| If you don't get it now, I guarantee you'll get it later | |
| I make the planet bounce from the poles to the equator | |
| Peninsulas, every island, and the continents | |
| I grab the mic and add flavor like condiments | |
| [All] | |
| 'Cause we the 3 MCs | |
| Y'all know we hold these mics tight | |
| Yo, we the 3 MCs | |
| We keep it right all night |
| zuò cí : Dillon, Fareed, Hanna, Lee | |
| feat. QTip | |
| Mr. Man | |
| Hey yo, MC am I | |
| People call me Man | |
| I' m everywhere like air, so watch as I expand | |
| Live and direct from out the Flatbush lands | |
| ' Cause I got more rhymes than the beach got sand | |
| Lee Majors | |
| who you be son? | |
| Well yo MC am I people call me " L" | |
| Can' t forget the doublee Major I rock well | |
| In ' 86 used to sport Pumas wit' Gazelles | |
| ' 96: Yo, I just rock mics and excel | |
| QTip | |
| Hey yo, MC a b people call me air | |
| See me on Jamaica Ave. sippin' halfandhalf | |
| I got a specialissued mic that' s guaranteed steel | |
| Bustin' rhymes at the crowd to make the shorties feel | |
| All | |
| Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it | |
| It' s the 3 MCs | |
| You know we hold these mics tight | |
| We the 3 MCs | |
| We do it right e' night | |
| With a scratch | |
| And a cut | |
| We ' bout to tear shit up | |
| Mr. Man | |
| See most of y' all really do not know how you should operate | |
| You need to contemplate ' cause you really cannot stop the wait | |
| Just cooperate | |
| Let me select the path | |
| You do not know the half simply ' cause you don' t know the math | |
| On how to automate the graph | |
| So follow the leader | |
| The 9Etherrapper' s get split like amoeba | |
| By the firebreather | |
| Get burned beyond recognition | |
| It' s Mr. Man the accurate be blurrin' up your vision | |
| Lee Majors | |
| I pack a . 45 caliber hollowtipped pen | |
| Make ' em say " What happen when he be rappin'?" | |
| Make a move son. I kill bystanders and all | |
| Check the autops' y the words that I dropped in his skull | |
| If you want a nigga draw, pull out your best rhymes | |
| Make your same gunfinger turn into peace sign | |
| Came back with tips swallowed | |
| Hiphop Puritan show these niggas how you drop it | |
| QTip | |
| We ' bout to drop it like the Pharcyde or Reggie Miller | |
| Camouflage onrescuin' rap guerilla | |
| Tricklin' down: verb, noun cascade | |
| Precious as jade, never heard the word ' fade' | |
| Positive vibes is way too influential | |
| Wack rhyme sayers need to keep it confidential | |
| Kick it up like tornadoes | |
| Trash cats get tomatoed | |
| Beat you like Bruno | |
| Watch yo' eye get the tape | |
| It was a Friday night | |
| And no moves was bein' fakin' | |
| And the people was breakin' | |
| And the house was shakin' | |
| And it won' t be long ' til e' body knowin' | |
| That the 3 MCs was on the mic | |
| Mr. Man | |
| Check me out, boy, in highspeed or slo' mo' | |
| Came down to Earth to rock this ill promo' | |
| Never sound wack on tape, ' cause that' s a nono | |
| So turn me up loud | |
| And put the needle to the | |
| Lee Majors | |
| With all of these | |
| Pimps, players, mafiosos, and G' s | |
| Make me wonder " Is there any room for just a MC?" | |
| Same shit, different beat can' t take it no more | |
| You and your man bought the same rhyme from the same store | |
| QTip | |
| You bought it from the same store | |
| And kicked the rhyme until your throat' s sore | |
| Now we got to up the ante much, much more | |
| Allah put us all here for a reason | |
| We ' bout to change the seasons | |
| From these three you' ll never smell treason | |
| Mr. Man | |
| If you don' t get it now, I guarantee you' ll get it later | |
| I make the planet bounce from the poles to the equator | |
| Peninsulas, every island, and the continents | |
| I grab the mic and add flavor like condiments | |
| All | |
| ' Cause we the 3 MCs | |
| Y' all know we hold these mics tight | |
| Yo, we the 3 MCs | |
| We keep it right all night |