or
De La Soul

(When I)

(First heard)

(Criminal)

(Minded)

(I was in...)

(Damn where was I?)

(...seventh grade)

(Battlin' this other emcee)

(Smokin' a blunt and drinkin' a 40 down lower East Side with my

niggas)

(I have no idea where I was it was so long ago)

(I was on my way to a family reunion in a car on the Long Island

expressway when I heard it)

(Rooselvelt Projects)

(I was in...)

(I was outside of church when I was really little and I was doing the

wop with this girl)

(Red Alert played one of the songs on the radio)

(It was so long ago)

(Yo Merce, what's up, this is Hanson, man, I want you to peep that

out.

Yo, kid... I was at this party, this hype

party when I heard

KRS' Criminal Minded. I'll call you back, peace.)

(All right!)

(All right!)

(All right!)

(All right!)

POS:

Channeling, in sync so my what brings that testament

To cover twelve inches of funk

Flip like as if I was the Dalek himself

Specialising in cleansing like the its of

Elephants, Dove hits bibles out the park, man

Don't wven try to toss bleach, I'm too dark and

Major more soul than James' "Escapism"

De La Soul is here to stay like racism

Patrick know and I'mma put the pillow off the bed

As I lurk up on your thoughts while phones on your head

Riff a tech pro, flex Sue, running you the links

Scout weather, pouring rain outta duck's survive links

And if one winks for pink slips, the slips are short

Dull-minded as sperm, to give out for the souls I report

I sport too fly for the forty-ounce drinker

I sport too fly for a forty-ounce thinker

A fresh linen scent so sniffer on the two-inch

A talker of the berg without weed influence

So stick to you Naughty By Natures and your Kane

'Cause graffiti that I based upn the wax is insane

DOVE:

Grand groove, I wish I had the flavor bid

Give me six bottles of beer, I take the seventh one free

I got the chandelier, kick, constructed by my man

Little elf, big four gets the zootie for the self

Long Island living, what, twelve o'clock dawn

Jiggy-not see me so I trip straight to your porches

Mr Partymaker puts the boogers in your bottle

Straw it and drink, what bees gotta be's

'Cause I snort the crazy-crazies

Man, I kick the Franken-style, dig the bolts in my neck

Wreck, ship, boat, rock

Heavy metal grooves ain't the infinite

Here I hips to the hops

I'm looking for the words in the faces of a prince

That brother been down ever since soaked cheese

And motor go smiling

Hey, how ya doin'

Now, meet in front of Big Lou's fighting

Hey, y'all reminisce, six streets, little miles

Straight to my avenue

(Aaaah... aaaggh)

Six streets, went miles straight to my avenue

I'm headed for the bigger E, for the bitter OE, not me

Here's my Malibu, child, here's my Malibu

Buckshot honeys, dig a gun and go aaaahhhhh...

Written by BROWN, NACIO HERB/FREED, ARTHUR
Published by EMI Music Publishing

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.