De La Soul - The Bizness

Intro And and bass up the track a little bit Cuz I I'm here I wanna hear that boom bish boom, knowhatI'msayin? Yeah yeah you know the bizness Common Sense, soul with the De La Get all them play-ahs We the rhyme sayers Huh, and that's the bizness, hah Gonna do it like this Gettin it that Like the Chicago streets [Verse 1: Dove] I speak divine of God theories, no need to be high Always exhale the facts cause I don't inhale lye/lie Play the greater man's game, to bounce off my losses So I can earn the acres (uhh) the houses (yeah) the horses (huh) Of course it's much greater than your Benz or your Lex The engine to my comprehension is just too complex Much too complex, EFX/effects be live like Das Making moves down South, to avoid the chaos And never, flaunt the coin cuz dime-getters be gazin They call me Luther Van, they say my style is so Amazin I'm fazin those who're supposed to have the last laughter Cuz even when I'm gone I'm reappearin in the after I haveta, send respects to real money makers Do not connect us with those champagne sippin money fakers Taste the quarter pound with spice from Chi-town Now what that prove? you're so full you can't even move [Hook] Cause I'm the D-to-the-O, the-V-to-the-E And can't another brother cook these delicacies Well I'm the P-L-U, the G-to-the-One Walk around the planet earth making money having fun And I'm the C-to-the-O, double-M-O-N I sit and think with a drink about how I'm gonna win I'm the C-to-the-O, double-M-O-N I sit and think with a drink... [Verse 2: Common] Do you wanna be a MC? Or do you wanna serve Do you wanna be dope? Or do you wanna deal it Fabricated acryllic, I feel it, I'm the style molester I do a show get Extra P's like the Large Professor In fact I get more hoes than Tessa, peep game like a Refa-ree in soul control of my Desti-ny, in the best of, three out of five Whip ANYBODY ass at NBA Live, rappers Take a dive like Greg Louganis with his bitch-ass Rather be in Bebe's alley, than at the click with gators Not a hater of the players, I'm more like a coach, or an owner I Used To Love H.E.R., but now I bone her (ahuh-hah!) At one point in rhyme I thought I lost my erection But then I got it back with the Resurrection, blessings Upon rhymes old man who called him traitor Big Com Stradamus niggas styles I predict [Hook] [Verse 3: Pos] I'm the most from the coast of the Eastern flav' Droppin more knowledge than litter, on the New York pave' It's me, Wonder Why, in the place to be Certified, as superior, MC While others explore to make it hardcore I make it hard for, wack MC's to even step inside the door Cause these kids is rhyming, sometiming And when we get to racing on the mic, they line up to see The lyrical killing, with stained egos on the ceiling My rhymes escalates like black death rates Over musical plates, being played as the rule Kids thinking stepping to the Soul, you're labelled fools Who claims to drop jewels but for now you do the catching I don't worry on what crew you run, or what section of earth You reside, you're not even a MAN So I don't deem it MANdatory taking your pride But I will, cause my man said Soulful Delight You cried "Keepin it real", yet you should try keepin it right That's understanding microphone mathematics Which leads to currency and temporary world status And when one shows he posed threat to this one This one will make that one into none Simple equation, zero, you shouldn't play hero If you can't stand Strong like the Island I'm from [Hook] [Outro: Common] Ahh that's how, that's how I'm supposed to do my thing huh Like triple it, alright That's how we do it, all the way f