Ragtime

Lyrics

[Intro: Grand Puba Maxwell, Sadat X & (Unknown)] Hit her, I mean let's hit this That's not straight Do it, God Yo, bwoy, let's do it, nawmsayin'? Let's pull it, bwoy [Bridge: Grand Puba Maxwell] A-yo, check this out Brand Nubian gettin' ready to swing this ep' We got the Grand Puba, we got Derek X on the flex We got Lord Jamar, we got Alamo with the A, Ron Stud! And my man Ep Rock X — kick the flavor for me on this one 'Cause we gettin' ready to be out of here in a sec [Verse 1: Sadat X] While New York roars, my voice-box soars I'll open your pores 'cause it's one of my chores Kickin' beats to bongo rhythms, cuttin' rhymes to a schism People often wonder and ask... is I'm the best? Surely you jest, I'm not down with the rest In fact... they failed the test It's my vernacular that's simply spectacular My bite is in your neck, it's the effect of Dracula Man on a mission, go to school with low tuition Can't even keep account of the G's I be kissin' But oh, I beg your pardon, the race is startin' The criminals is here and I'm the hardest of the hard And it's a feat for you to meet me on any given day The adjective — AMAZING spelled with an 'A' And a 'G' on the end, by usin' my pen Set forth on a journey for the perfect blend Rhymin' was a fad in the days of my dad Now MC's is makin' G's and goin' for bad The X in my name makes it all official Am I the king? Well, that's the so-called issue Rollin' off the tongue was the fresh one-liner And CB talker was the zero-one-niner Took a slight drop from the tip of the top Now I'm out for mines, and I'm goin' to clock What's mine, on a line, on a rhyme I will dine Never ate the pig, can't deal with the swine Keep on! Yes, my word is bond! Speakin' that knowledge like Farrakhaaaan! 'Cause it's ragtime! [Bridge: Grand Puba Maxwell] Ah, yeah, it's ragged, let's do it! Aight, now we got Lord J Lord J — yo, c'mon now Kick the flavor to this (I'ma swing it like this) [Verse 2: Lord Jamar] I like to drop bass, 'cause when it hits, I bounce 'em I do this with my seven and one half ounces of brain Which I contain to manifest thought The record is bought, so I figure I ought to elaborate (Might as well) As minds in turn collaborate I speak the facts, black, I don't exaggerate I just get to the bare essential Demandin' that I talk of my credentials 'Cause yo, I never slept, my mind was in the right place Now, let's take our steps and retrace back to a time When black was defined as Original, God-like, Supreme Divine Refined is my mind, that's why I'm buildin' There was a void in New York, but now it's filled in By the Lord J, don't forget the A-M-A-to-the-R Now say I'm a Star (You a Star, J!) Well, you can be one, too Now, here's all you got to do (Whatcha gotta do?) You got to know Knowledge of Self's the foundation Know Wisdom's the way to let it out, cuz Understandin' is the manifestation And culture freedom, the final turnout 'Cause it's ragtime [Verse 3: Grand Puba Maxwell] As I, stand as a Pharaoh and read up on Elijah Trick ends on my friends, 'cause Puba's not a miser Last longer than a Duracell, or an Energizer I got a little older, but a whole lot wiser When it comes to shootin' shots, I'm a damn good shooter MC Grand Puba should be worshiped like a Buddha I boogies to the rhythm, kicks all the flavortism Damn, I gets busy, though makin' rhyme I gets bizm Always help another, meanin' sister or a brother Just a little tip I picked up from my mother Smooth as Ali Baba, once a week I see the barber So honey, pucker up 'cause I'm a damn good slobber Mr. Exquisite, dressed in silk, Bally's made of lizard So honey, what is it? (What is it?) I rock a rhyme at a weddin', next tour I'm probably headin' You want a beat like this? Check the stack of Otis Redding I'm hurtin' like a blister, confusin' like Twister Not an only child — four brothers and one sister Not a rinky-dinky, never snackin' on a Twinkie When it comes to flexin', I can bend it like a Slinkie So here comes the champ to civilize a tramp When brothers try to play me, that's when the Pub' gets amped So smile, here comes the picture — click! A humble type brother, so don't play me as a vic' I can relate to the Good Times, the Cosby's only sometimes Gil Noble's on a Sunday, then it's back at work on Monday Take my gear to the cleaners, bypass all the Bimmer's Then I'm out! Beggin' crackheads — I can do without (Definitely) (Why not, Puba? Why, why, why?) 'Cause it's ragtime (Ah, yeah!) * Ad-libs to outro *