A Tribe Called Quest- Sucka Nigga

Brother Ali, ”Truth is’

okay, if knowledge is the key then just show me the lock.
Got the scrawny legs but I move just like lou brock,
With speed. Im agile plus Im worth your while.
One hundred percent intelligent black child.
My optic presentation sizzles the retina.
How far must I go to gain respect? um.
Well, its kind of simple, just remain your own
Or youll be crazy sad and alone.
Industry rule number four thousand and eighty,
Record company people are shady.
So kids watch your back cause I think they smoke crack,
I dont doubt it. look at how they act.
Off to better things like a hip-hop forum.
Pass me the rock and Ill storm with the crew and …
Proper. what you say hammer? proper.
Rap is not pop, if you call it that then stop.

I like the snares loud enough to make your eyes blink from it
Only male with the Holy Grail, drink from it
I keep an eye on heaven and a ear to the street
And spread a thick layer of blood, sweat and tears on the beats
My brain rest upon the hip-hop lexicon
That I acquired in the decade of work that people slept upon
I don’t rap, I recite the prayers of the inner soul
Of the slave ships’ human cargo
Seemingly meaningless rappers flood the market
With shit that make me pace in my room until I rip the carpet
I’m fit to start up this next millennium
Swingin the grappling hook at cackling crooks to finish em

Huhuhuhuhuhuh *shuddering sound* like the Doc Bruce Banner
Hit you with a ray which is similar to Gamma
Do you believe in miracles, ?
like I believe in myself, but I don’t believe in you
What you need to do is get faith
Take your spiritual, out your body, put it in a higher place
Cause I’ma bring out, the Holy Ghost in niggaz
in my lyrical church, and I be hostin niggaz, uh
Submergin bodies in water, you know you oughta
lose all the glitter and flash, and get raw ass
I’ve been ordained by the feeling, to keep the hip-hop
raw hoppin and the wack rappers reeling

I step off in your hoola-hoop cypher with my eyes all aglow
Walkin tall enough to make your half moon whole
You don’t need to get duct-taped to the bathroom flo’
Cause I don’t think your shit is flavor – the rats do, though
You and your little bitch buddies think you’re Thelma & Louise
Cause you got a drum machine and you ( ? )
You need to respect a fuckin legend when he breathes
‘fore you get a K-Swiss logo embedded in your knees
Shock the body-body, rock the consciousness
Stagger the imagination, box your esophagus
The paradime, you stepped past the line
And I show you why the masterminds have got a fuckin axe to grind
Street magician like David Blaine with these songs
Crip-walkin through your mental corridor with metal cleats on
Slug got the weed smoke, Ant got the beats broke
And your fuckin eyebrows might grow back, but your teeth won’t

Back in the days when I was a teenager
Before I had status and before I had a pager
You could find the Abstract listening to hip hop
My pops used to say, it reminded him of be-bop
I said, well daddy don’t you know that things go in cycles
The way that Bobby Brown is just ampin like Michael
Its all expected, things are for the lookin
If you got the money, Quest is for the bookin
Come on everybody, let’s get with the fly modes
Still got room on the truck, load the back boom
Listen to the rhyme, to get a mental picture
of this black man, through black woman victim
Why do I say that, cuz I gotta speak the truth man
Doing what we feel for the music is the proof and
Planted on the ground, the act is so together
Bonafied strong, you need leverage to sever
The unit, yes, the unit, yes, the unit called the jazz is
deliberatley cheered LP filled with streeet goods
You can find it on the rack in your record store (store)
If you get the record, then your thoughts are adored
and appreciated, cause we’re ever so glad we made it
We work hard, so we gotta thank God
Dishin out the plastic, do the dance till you spastic
If you dis… it gets drastic
Listen to the rhymes, cuz its time to make gravy
If it moves your booty, then shake, shake it baby
All the way to Africa a.k.a. The Motherland (uh)
Stick out the left, then I’ll ask for the other hand
That’s the right hand, Black Man (man)
Only if you was noted as my man (man)
If I get the credit, then I’ll think I deserve it
If you fake moves, don’t fix your mouth to word it
Get in the zone of positivity, not negativity
Cuz we gotta strive for longevity
If you botch up, what’s in that (ass) (what?)
A pair of Nikes, size ten-and-a-half (come on, come on)

Q-Tip = Excursions

- Brother Ali “Star Quality”