Jazz (We’ve Got)

Lyrics

[Chorus: A Tribe Called Quest] We got the jazz, we got the jazz We got the jazz, we got the jazz We got the jazz, we got the jazz We got the jazz, we got the jazz [Verse 1: Q-Tip] Stern, firm and young with a laid-back tongue The aim is to succeed and achieve at 21 Just like Ringling Brothers, I'll daze and astound Captivate the mass 'cause the prose was profound Do it for the strong, we do it for the meek Boom it in your, boom it in your, boom it in your Jeep Or your Honda, or your Beamer, or your Legend, or your Benz The rave of the town to your foes and your friends So push it, along, trails, we blaze Don't deserve the gong, don't deserve the praise The tranquility will make you unball your fist For we put Hip Hop on a brand new twist A brand new twist with a whole heap of mystic So low-key that you probably missed it And yet it's so loud that it stands in the crowd When the guy takes the beat, they bowed So raise up squire, adjust your attire We have no time to wallow in the mire If you're on a foreign path, then let me do the lead Join in the essence of the cool-out breed Then cool out to the music 'cause it makes you feel serene With the birds and the bees and all those groovy things Like getting stomach aches when you gotta go to work Or staring into space when you're feeling berserk I don't really mind if it's over your head 'Cause the job of resurrectors is to wake up the dead So pay attention, it's not hard to decipher And after the horns, you can check out the Phifer [Chorus: A Tribe Called Quest] We got the jazz, we got the jazz We got the jazz, we got the jazz We got the jazz, we got the jazz We got the jazz, we got the jazz [Verse 2: Phife Dawg, Q-Tip, Both] Competition, dem try fi come side way But competition, they must come straight way Competition, dem try fi come side way But competition, they must come straight way How's about that? It seems like it's my turn again All through the years my mic has been my best friend I know some brothers wonder, can Phife really kick it? Some even wanna diss me, but why sweat it? I'm all into my music 'cause it's how I make papes Try to make hits, like Kid Capri makes tapes Me sweat another? I do my own thing Strictly hardcore tracks, not a new jack swing I grew up as a Christian so to Jah, I give thanks Collect my banks, listen to Shabba Ranks I sing, and chat, I do all of that It's 1991 and I refuse to come wack I take off my hat to other crews that tend to rock But The Low End Theory's here, it's time to wreck shop I got Tip and Shah (huh), so whom shall I fear? (Word) Stop, look and listen, but please don't stare (uh) So jet to the store, and buy the LP (yeah) On Jive/RCA, cassettes and CD's Produced and arranged by the four-man crew And oh shit, Skeff Anselm, he gets props too (ha-ha) Make sure you have a system with some fat house speakers (Yeah) So the new shit can rock (Uh), from Bronx to Massapequa (Uh) 'Cause where I come from quality is job one And everybody up on Linden know we get the job done So peace to that crew (Yeah), and peace to this crew (Yeah) Bring on the tour, we'll see you at a theater nearest you [Verse 3: Q-Tip] Hey yo, but wait, back it up, hup, easy, back it up Please let the Abstract embellish on the cut Back and forth just like a Cameo song If you dig this joint then please come dance along To the music 'cause it's done just for the mind Now I gotta scat and get mine, underline The jazz, the what? The jazz can move that ass For the Tribe originates that feeling of pizzazz It's the universal sound, bless the brothers on the ground And the ones six below, you didn't have to go Some say that I'm eccentric 'cause I once had an orgy And sometimes for breakfast, I eat grits and porgies If this is a stinker, then call me a skunk, I ask ("What's, wrong?") Now check it out [Outro: Q-Tip] All my peoples in Queens, ya don't stop Now all my peoples in Brooklyn, ya don't stop And all my peoples uptown, ya don't stop That includes the Bronx and Harlem, ya don't stop Now to that girl Ramelle, ya don't stop I said because Ladies First, ya don't stop And to the JB's, ya don't stop And De La Soul, ya don't stop To my Brand Nubians, ya don't stop And to my Leaders of the New, ya don't stop To my man Large Professor, ya don't stop Pete Rock for the beat, ya don't stop Everybody in the place, ya don't stop You keep it on, to the rhythm, ya don't stop And last but not least on the sure shot It's the Zulu nation, heh