De La Soul - Intro

(When I first heard, Criminal Minded
(I was in, man, 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)
(I was on my way to a family reunion)
(In a car on the Long Island expressway headed for Hempstead)
(Rooselvelt Projects) (I was in Rooselvelt Projects)
(I was outside of church when I was really little)
(And I was doing the wop with this girl)
(I mean I could've been anywhere)
(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, B, I'll call you back, peace)

(All right)
(All right)
(All right)
(All right, All right)

Channeling, in sync so my what brings that testament
To cover twelve inches of funk flip like
As if I was the Dalek himself
Specializing in cleansing like the its of
Elephants, Dove hits bibles out the park, man
Don't even 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'ma 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 your Naughty By Natures and your Kane
'Cause graffiti that I based upn the wax is insane

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, ahh, ahh
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 then, ahh

Written by:
Paul E. Huston, David J. Jolicoeur, Vincent Mason, Kelvin Mercer

Publisher:
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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