Lyrics: De La Soul. The Impossible: Mission TV Series: Pt. 1. Voodoo Circus.

[Dave:]
Kick up the dust like "Another One Bites the"
It ain't the Queen version, see you heard 'em back on Bentley Road
with the show council - whattup Divine - the bell rang
It ain't no champagne fall, we dump the taste through the crack
for the folks under the floor, on tour {*beatboxing*}
Ever since I was a "Fat" bastard
But now I travel a little light in my skin
It ain't all that cute, I still tuck a little in
Like {?} body sting 'em Ray sting 'em, Ray sting 'em ("Sting 'em Ray!")
I blind box, niggaz hit 'em when I hear 'em
It stays six here to bake you rap crumbcakes
So scrumptious with cholesterol
Lube out your squeak, your selection is weak
This combination is like Halle and Beyonce (BAD!)
But smooth like Ponce DeLeon
Explorin this Dave West bounce that we on
On on on on on on on...

("Here's a very curious thing, a verse that'll fit any song")

[Pos:]
We all do what we gotta do
When no love in the heart of a city
No love in the heart of a crew, so most break up
Others stay together, cause there's not enough money to leave
They tryin to get the cake up, frost it out a little
in eight days and wake up, exercise demons
Leave you in a state screamin, "Come back De La, come back~!"
Sorta how Prince did to Nikki
No need for that, here to give it to you quickly
Cause some of y'all lookin kinda sickly
Eatin that bullshit rap (word) split ya asshole
then let all the whack shit fall out
Then come grab another pouch and sprinkle us in (sprinkle it)
Until you stay twinklin, roll your ass up
No I won't pass up a toke, for all the shit De La wrote
So smell us all on your clothes
Try to wash us out, we ain't comin out, that's how it goes
Winner of the pro see- FUCK ALL AWARDS ("Fuck all y'all!")

[Dave:]
Yeah, and wipe your face pa
Your bone swat on speak tongues that ain't near ya
I knew Cayman since we met on the Island
Kodak kid (CLICK) kept it all candid
An apple a day, we have FUN dip
I knew one dip, after school special delivery
She kept up on asses like Nancy Drew
We did a dance or two, until my girlfriend showed up

[Bitchy Girl:]
(Nigga I know you ain't disrespectin me who is this bitch?)
(Why is this bitch all in your face? Why is this bitch ALL, IN, YOUR, FACE)
(Yeah whatever nigga just dancin, I am not the numerical uno)
(So you got one night out and wanna act like a little monkey?)
(I know IT'S HARD OUT HERE FOR A CHIMP~!)

[Pos:]
Can I get a Soul Clap?
It's the summertime 1969 nigga, born durin the Woodstock
Many men do wish they could rock
But all they do is inject the value of shock
But KABOOM, I blow up the spot, the scene
The little ones, the teens, them elders, the peers
They don't run in fear, they gravitate
to the way I navigate know-how inside your ear
(Never) fabricate vo-cals inside your ear
And let's make it clear, I'm Plug ("one for the trouble")
Wonder Why ("for the time")
Workmatic, pullin them dimes
who like to get on their knees and [WHISTLE BLOWS]
and [WHISTLE BLOWS] and [WHISTLE BLOWS] and [WHISTLE BLOWS]
and [WHISTLE BLOWS] and [WHISTLE BLOWS] and [WHISTLE BLOWS]
SHA-NA-NAHHHH!