De La Soul - Ring Ring Ring (Ha Ha Hey)

Hey how ya doin' Sorry ya can't get through Why don't you leave your name And your number And I'll get back to you Hey how are ya doin' Sorry ya can't get through But leave your name (uh) And your number And I'll get back to you. Once again it's another rap bandit Fiending at I and I can't stand it Wanna be down with the Day-Glo Knocking on my door, saying, "a yo yo" Knocking on my door, saying, "a yo yo" "I got a funky new tune with a fly banjo" I can't understand what the problem is I find it hard enough dealing with my own biz How'd they get my name and number Then I stop to think and wonder Bout a plan, yo man, I gotta step out town You wanna call me up? Take my number down It's 222-2222 I got an answering machine that can talk to you It goes POS: Hey how ya doin' Sorry ya can't get through But leave your name and your number And I'll get back to you Yo, check it, exit the old style Enters the new But nothing's new 'bout being hawked by a crew Or should I say flock cause around every block There's Harry, Dick, and Tom, with a demo in his palm Now I'm with helping those who want to help themselves And flaunt a nut that's doggy as in dope But it's not the mood to hear The tales of limousines and pails Of money they'll make like a pro I be like, "Yo black, just play me the tape" But at the show the time to spare I just make But the songs created in they shacks Are so wick-wick-wack, situations like this And now I hate they give me smiles Kool-Aid wide and ask, "Was it def?" And with the straighest face I be like, "Hell yes." I slip them the digits to Papa Prince Paul So I don't go AWOL but yet I know when they call They get MASE: Hey how ya doing Sorry ya can't get through Why don't you leave your name And your number And I'll get back to you Hey how are ya doin Sorry you can't get through Why don't you leave your name and your number And I'll get back to you Check it out Party at the dug-out on Diction Ave Haven't been to the jam in quite a while Figure I'll catch up on the latest styles 'Stead piles and piles of demo tapes bi-da miles All I wanna do is cut on the decks wild But edition up here bi-da miles to the center Reliever of duty, Plug One mosies in And I be like, "Yo G, Pos does all the producing" POS: Now woe is me to the third degree Mase pulls the funny so I make like a bunny Jettin' But I'm getting used to this demo abuse Getting raped and giving birth to a tape Cause there's no escape from the clutches of a hawker Attached to my success, sent like a stalker Make way to my radius playin fly guy Try to get on my back they force like Luke Sky Me Myself and I go through this act daily And rarely do I not No matter how I dodge some jackal always nails me No matter what the plot And even out on tour they be like, "Yo I got a tape to play you back at the hotel" I be like "Oh swell" Unveil the numeric code to dial my room And tell them to call me at noon But of course there's no answering machine in my room But a pretty young adorer Who I swung on tour And if it rings while we're alone She'll answer the phone And with the quickness she'll recite like a poem DOVE: "Hey, you done did the right thing, dial up my ring ring Now you're waiting on the beep. Say, I would love if you'd sing The tune to Tru instead of fronting on the speak." So no problemo, just play the demo And at the end it's break out time Please oh please don't press rewind Cause I'll just lay it down the line Hey how ya doing Sorry ya can'