HYBRID SNICKS MAGAZINE

Q: Back in the days on the boulevard of Linden,
we used to kick routines and presence was fittin’.
It was I the abstract
P: And me the five footer.
I kicks the mad style so step off the frankfurter.
Q: Yo, Phife, you remember that routine
that we used to make spiffy like mister clean?
P: Um um, a tidbit, um, a smidgen.
I don~t get the message so you gots to run the pigeon.
Q: You on point Phife?
P: All the time, tip.
Q: You on point Phife?
P: All the time, tip.
Q: You on point Phife?
P: All the time, tip.
Q: Well, then grab the microphone and let your words rip.
P: Now here’s a funky introduction of how nice I am.
Tell your mother, tell your father, send a telegram.
I’m like an energizer ’cause, you see, I last long.
My crew is never ever wack because we stand strong.
Now if you say my style is wack that’s where you’re dead wrong.
I slayed that body in El Segundo then push it along.
You’d be a fool to reply that Phife is not the man
’cause you know and I know that you know who I am.
A special shot of peace goes out to all my pals, you see.
And a middle finger goes for all you punk MC’s.
‘Cause I love it when you wack MC’s despise me.
They get vexed, I roll next, can~t none contest me.
I’m just a fly MC who’s five foot three and very brave.
On job remaining, no I’m chaining cause I misbehave.
I come correct in full effect have all my hoes in check.
And before I get the butt the jim must be erect.
You see, my aura~s positive I don’t promote no junk.
See, I’m far from a bully and I ain’t a punk.
Extremity in rhythm, yeah that’s what you heard.
So just clean out your ears and just check the word.

R.I.P

May 30, 1974–February 15, 1999

Yo, pay attention
And listen real closely how I break this slang shit down

Check it, my weed smoke is my lye 
A ki of coke is a pie
When I’m lifted, I’m high
With new clothes on, I’m fly
Cars is whips and sneakers is kicks
Money is chips, movies is flicks
Also, cribs is homes, jacks is pay phones
Cocaine is nose candy, cigarettes is bones
A radio is a box, a razor blade is a ox
Fat diamonds is rocks and jakes is cop
And if you got rubbed, you got stuck 
You got shot, you got bucked
And if you got double-crossed, you got fucked
Your bankroll is your poke, a choke hold is a yoke
A kite is a note, a con is a okey doke
And if you got punched that mean you got snuffed 
To clean is to buff, a bull scare is a strong bluff
I know you like the way I’m freakin’ it
I talk with slang and I’ma never stop speakin’ it

Chorus: repeat (2X)

“Speak with criminal slang” -Nas
That’s just the way that I talk, yo
“Vocabulary spills, I’m ill” -Nas

Yo, yo
A burglary is a jook, a woof’s a crook
Mobb Deep already explained the meanin’ of shook
If you caught a felony, you caught a F
If you got killed, you got left
If you got the dragon, you got bad breath
If you 730, that mean you crazy
Hit me on the hip means page me
Angel dust is sherm, if you got AIDS, you got the germ
If a chick gave you a disease, then you got burned
Max mean to relax, guns and pistols is gats
Condoms is hats, critters is cracks
The food you eat is your grub
A victim’s a mark
A sweat box is a small club, your tick is your heart
Your apartment is your pad
Your old man is your dad
The studio is the lab and heated is mad
I know you like the way I’m freakin’ it
I talk with slang and I’ma never stop speakin’ it

Chorus (2X)

The iron horse is the train and champaign is bubbly
A deuce is a honey that’s ugly
If your girl is fine, she’s a dime
A suit is a fine, jewelry is shine
If you in love, that mean you blind
Genuine is real, a face card is a hundred dollar bill
A very hard, long stare is a grill
If you sneakin’ to go see a girl, that mean you creepin’
Smilin’ is cheesin’, bleedin’ is leakin’
Beggin is bummin, if you nuttin you comin
Takin’ orders is sunnin’, an ounce of coke is a onion
A hotel’s a telly, a cell phone’s a celly
Jealous is jelly, your food box is your belly
To guerrilla mean to use physical force
You took a L, you took a loss
To show off mean floss, uh
I know you like the way I’m freakin’ it
I talk with slang and I’ma never stop speakin’ it

Chorus (2X)

Yeah, yeah
One love to my big brother, Big Lee
Holdin’ it down
Yeah, Flamboyant for life
Yeah yeah, Flamboyant for life

Microphone Fiend (verse 1)

I was a fiend before I became a teen
I melted microphone instead of cones of ice cream
Music orientated so when hip-hop was originated
Fitted like pieces of puzzles, complicated
’cause I grabbed the mic and try to say, " yes y’all!"
They tried to take it, and say that I’m too small
Cool, ’cause I don’t get upset
I kick a hole in the speaker, pull the plug, then I jet
Back to the lab ...without a mic to grab
So then I add all the rhymes I had
One after the other one, then I make another one
To dis the opposite then ask if the brother’s done
I get a craving like I fiend for nicotine
But I don’t need a cigarette, know what I mean?
I’m raging, ripping up the stage and
Don’t it sound amazing ’cause every rhyme is made and
Thought of, cuz it’s sort of...an addiction,
Magnatized by the mixing
Vocals, vocabulary, your verses, you’re stuck in
The mic is a drano, volcanoes erupting,
Rhymes overflowing, gradually growing
Everything is written in the cold, so it can coin-
Cide, my thoughts to guide,
48 tracks to slide
The invincible, microphone fiend rakim
Spread the word, ’cause I’m in
E-f-f-e-c-t
A smooth operator operating correctly,
But back to the problem, I gotta habit,
You can’t solve it, silly rabbit
The prescription is a hypertone that’s thorough when
I fiend for a microphone like herion
Soon as the bass kicks, I need a fix
Gimme a stage and a mic and a mix
And I’ll put you in a mood or is it a state of
Unawareness?  beware, it’s the reanamator!
A menace to a microphone, a lethal weapon
An assasinator, if the people ain’t stepping
You see a part of me that you never seen
When I’m fiending for a microphone, I’m the microphone fiend...

 

“It Ain’t Hard To Tell”

It ain’t hard to tell, I excel, then prevail
The mic is contacted, I attract clientele
My mic check is life or death, breathin a sniper’s breath
I exhale the yellow smoke of buddha through righteous steps
Deep like The Shinin’, sparkle like a diamond
Sneak a uzi on the island in my army jacket linin
Hit the Earth like a comet, invasion
Nas is like the Afrocentric Asian, half-man, half-amazin
Cause in my physical, I can express through song
Delete stress like Motrin, then extend strong
I drank Moet with Medusa, give her shotguns in hell
From the spliff that I lift and inhale, it ain’t hard to tell

The buddha monk’s in your trunk, turn the bass up
Not stories by Aesop, place your loot up, parties I shoot up
Nas, I analyze, drop a jew-el, inhale from the L
School a fool well, you feel it like braille
It ain’t hard to tell, I kick a skill like Shaquille holds a pill
Vocabulary spills I’m +Ill+
plus +Matic+, I freak beats slam it like Iron Shiek
Jam like a tech with correct techniques
So analyze me, surprise me, but can’t magmatize me
Scannin while you’re plannin ways to sabotage me
I leave em froze like her-on in your nose
Nas’ll rock well, it ain’t hard to tell