Let the Horns Blow

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Dres of Black Sheep] Yo! One for your mother, two for your pops Three's for the niggas that's trying to kill the cops So, bust it – the Black Sheep are here, put the burner on the car seat D-R-E-S, so yes, I guess, sit back and watch this track get robbed In transition, a pubic hair against it I tell your mamama "I love you" if you thought my style was missing My Snoopy, Droopy, Casper, or Punky You're rolling with Dres the Black Sheep, that says my brother's freaking funky I know you want to test me, but-but–but, please, don't try to sub me 'Cause way before you ever get to snuff me Beretta to your head and, yo, you'd better be on your jet ski I could never be The Ruler, but like Rick, I say I'm slick You're just a backwards kid, excuse me, I meant to say a "dik" So now you got beef and broccoli, or is it cock-olli? But we got time, we keep 18, or yet two 9's So let the horns blow, 'cause you know that you're just a barking dog Lump on a log, prince now a frog Don't play Post, because we both know you're Kelloggs [Verse 2: Trugoy The Dove of De La Soul] I be the Drama, so watch the 'Wonderama' Catch a dip's hips sweeter when I call her "mamacita" Not a lover, a fighter, no need for loving these, see Didn't like the Brady Bunch, for many years I had a hunch Living like the Givens, big thanks for big banks I'm sticking like a dish, swordfish when I shanks Maximum is maximized, minimum is none You want to shoot the breeze? Please Pass the peas, the pig is done Not the vigilant, or walkin' with a slant Want to hit the "Yes I Can Can" and never say I can't I wear the Neil Diamonds and fucks what Simon says Had to freak the fat, so I cut some from my dread But back, again they come, just a little sooner to Become one nation under the groove Oh, I feel the Clinton, soothing me like Lipton Tea, and it's definitely under the groove I'm feeling kind of hyper like my man Rowdy Piper Raining with the raps, so hit the window wiper Tally-yo, brothers, go and form a cipher Don't baby-sip the bottle or I'll hit you with the viper Never toke the smoke, I don't even own a lighter If it's any pipe I'm lighting, it's the pipe that goes inside of her Check the beat, it be L.I., N.Y., listed as a rider Break time from the rhyme, 'cause now I'm back and outta cider [Verse 3: Fashion of The Beatnuts] Snort up a key, yo – better sex than Rio Fashion, Ju, and Les, I make a third of the trio Fiddly fee, fiddly fye, fiddly fo, fiddly fum I smell props, hit 'em hard, and then I cum Love to eat a skin, but first I inspect it Not a crima-nima-nal, don't got a record, go and check it Or you can get ate up, pass me a plate of A little seafood, I find a phone and ring a date up So never start a track without Beatnuts on the list Brothers buck shots point blank and still miss Millie miss, Millie miss, why would I ever dis? Fellas who fight for peace and fight for it with fists Hey yo, Huggy Bear, do you manage or do your damage? I'll let you tell the story, but first get you a bandage 'Cause you can go for miles and miles and miles and– Talk more trash than the dog doo-doo piles in– The kennel, and I say when I'll, or when they, stop Let me see your girl, and better believe the drawers will drop It's getting freaky, a Beatnut thing, that is Let the horns blow, 'cause that's what time it is [Verse 4: Phife Dawg of A Tribe Called Quest] Yo! Dawgy Dawgy diamond, guess who's next? Da 5 Foot Assassin with the microphone check I'm all that and more, 'cause there never was comp Play "Mr. Bad" and you shall get stomped I had a head full of hair, where I kept all my rhymes A brother from Queens and, yo, I always gets mines No shorts are being taken – no, not this year The Phife Dawg is here, so you'd better beware Concieted? I guess it's something like dat 'Cause God don't make no jokes, so I know I ain't wack So, relax and chill, sit your booty still Or just take loss like the Buffalo Bills "Put one up for the Phifer" – long time since you heard that Suckers walk around talking 'bout they can burn that Soft MC, he can't be talking to me 'Cause I'm far from a wuss and I never was a puss I grab the mic, MC's start to get petrol 'Cause there's no MC like Phife, like those who fight Progresso Open your back, now gimme no slack, see what I'm saying, son? There's more to this here than being short, dark, and handsome Messing with my lady? You know that's a no-no Why? Because you can't mess with my Yo-Yo You know that I'm the one, you know that I'm the what I'm in there (Like The Don?) – nah, like Prego sauce [Verse 5: Chi-Ali] Well, it's me, Chi-Ali, and I'm the last to spark – yo Everywhere I go I get stalked by narcs And TNT just can't understand You see a brother with gear, a beeper, and in his pocket a grand But enough of that, let me break it down We are all Black Brothers on a Quest, yes, we do have Soul Some of us are hoein', some are on the positive role Me, I'm hoeing; on the mic, I'm flowing With the Tongue and we are positively growing Now when I'm in a battle, I just be having fun But competition be so scared that they be whiter than cum Now you heard me flow to a nice tempo, so – Let the horns blow