Bush Babees 3 Mcs Lyrics

3 Mcs Lyrics

f/ Q-Tip







(Mr. Man)



Hey yo, MC am I



People call me Man



I'm everywhere like air, so watch as I expand



Live and direct from out the Flatbush lands



'Cause I got more rhymes than the beach got sand







(Lee Majors)



(who you be son?)



Well yo MC am I; people call me "L"



Can't forget the double-e Major I rock well



In '86 used to sport Pumas wit' Gazelles



'96:Yo, I just rock mics and excel







(Q-Tip)



Hey yo, MC a b people call me air



See me on Jamaica Ave. sippin' half-and-half



I got a special-issued mic that's guaranteed steel



Bustin' rhymes at the crowd to make the shorties feel







(All)



(Bust it, bust it, bust it, bust it)



It's the 3 MCs



You know we hold these mics tight



We the 3 MCs



We do it right e' night



With a scratch



And a cut



We 'bout to tear shit up







(Mr. Man)



See most of y'all really do not know how you should operate



You need to contemplate 'cause you really cannot stop the wait



Just cooperate



Let me select the path



You do not know the half simply 'cause you don't know the math



On how to automate the graph



So follow the leader



The 9-Ether--rapper's get split like amoeba



By the fire-breather



Get burned beyond recognition



It's Mr. Man the accurate be blurrin' up your vision







(Lee Majors)



I pack a .45 caliber hollow-tipped pen



Make 'em say "What happen when he be rappin'?"



Make a move son.I kill bystanders and all



Check the autops'[y] the words that I dropped in his skull



If you want a nigga draw, pull out your best rhymes



Make your same gun-finger turn into peace sign







Came back with tips swallowed



Hip-hop Puritan show these niggas how you drop it







(Q-Tip)



We 'bout to drop it like the Pharcyde or Reggie Miller



Camouflage on--rescuin' rap guerilla



Tricklin' down:verb, noun cascade



Precious as jade, never heard the word 'fade'



Positive vibes is way too influential



Wack rhyme sayers need to keep it confidential



Kick it up like tornadoes



Trash cats get tomatoed



Beat you like Bruno



Watch yo' eye get the tape







It was a Friday night



And no moves was bein' fakin'



And the people was breakin'



And the house was shakin'



And it won't be long 'til e'body knowin'



That the 3 MCs was on the mic







(Mr. Man)



Check me out, boy, in high-speed or slo'-mo'



Came down to Earth to rock this ill promo'



Never sound wack on tape, 'cause that's a no-no



So turn me up loud



And put the needle to the







(Lee Majors)



With all of these



Pimps, players, mafiosos, and G's



Make me wonder "Is there any room for just a MC?"



Same shit, different beat; can't take it no more



You and your man bought the same rhyme from the same store







(Q-Tip)



You bought it from the same store 



and kicked the rhyme until your throat's sore



Now we got to up the ante much, much more



Allah put us all here for a reason



We 'bout to change the seasons



From these three you'll never smell treason







(Mr. Man)



If you don't get it now, I guarantee you'll get it later



I make the planet bounce from the poles to the equator



Peninsulas, every island, and the continents



I grab the mic and add flavor like condiments







(All)



'Cause we the 3 MCs



Y'all know we hold these mics tight



Yo, we the 3 MCs



We keep it right all night