Paroles de la chanson If The Papes Come par A Tribe Called Quest

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Paroles de la chanson If The Papes Come par A Tribe Called Quest

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away
But not Hip-Hop yo
And let it be known that we are on some umm
Ehh ahh, uhh, a-chicka-uhh
Ehh ahh, uhh, a-chicka-uhh
And this ain't on the pop tip yo
Are y'all kids tucked in?
Here we go..

People in the audience they cry out "ho"
People with a gun, yo they'll cry out "bo!"
I don't like a cop, I don't sell a rock
But still the kanga's clock me after a show
Standing on the stage dripping, pouring with sweat
To people in the crowd I give what they get
Papers make paid, babies make laid
I don't really worry nor do I fret
Waiting for the gimme and boy I got some
Sweet like a peach and tart like a plum
I thought what I think, I rock a bead link
Legally I sip when I turn twenty-one
A letter to the homeboy that freaked the head dome
The army wants me to drop my microphone
Gotta be brief, no orders from a chief
Hot butter on what, say what, the popcorn
On the tour bus we hit the truck stop
A dollar for some chips, a quarter for some pop
We laugh and giggle some, Phife gets the honeybuns
Ali Shaheed Muhammad keeps talking that shop
The brothers cruise on as we quest for the check
Calling up Famous to see if it's there yet
Not a bourgeoise, hate the seminar
Ignorant flip, hey miss you must jet
Flex for the funkiest, butts start to bounce
Measure Hip Hop for weight, by the ounce
Bush on the tush, you're pulling while I push
Play me for the punk then puss, feel the pounce

It's like that y'all (keep on)
Freak freak y'all (keep on)
(Repeat x4)

[Afrika Baby Bam]
A young baby brother growing up in the world
Used to be a bottle now a 40 and a girl
Standing on the corner cold chilling, talking shit
Wake up in the morning fix a plate of hominy grits
Change my diaper, clean my pacifier
Smoke to get higher if I would like to jump
Muhammad drum machining, dust it off clean and
Make a funky beat to keep the street steaming
Look from the heart and cold living lum
Good from the start like a newborn nun
Eat to get fatter, but that don't matter
Born out in Brooklyn and that's where I'm from
May 22nd out on Ocean Ave
From around the way so I be knowing the half
Peace to Sweet Daddy and on to Mike G
The harder they come is as hard as we be

If the papes come yo yo I won't riff
I'll just sit down and get me a spliff
With mines I was born, a child of the corn
Molecules of the land they uplift
Levels is straight, in fact they're rectified
Adrenaline now is crazy multiplied
Four and four is eight, if fat shit makes the plate
I make sure the Tribe is in
With the quickness you bear the witness
Flexing and pumping with the fitness
Moving it - uh, doing it - uh
Those who oppose must hit the s-list
Doing it, doing it with the whole frame
Look what's in the mind and not in the brain
On this you can quote, we on a diffy note
Quest for the future, 'stead of the fame
One ninety-one brothers grabbing they thingies
Forgot the name, oh, equivalent to Jimmy
Hiddle-iddle-it, you think I have to quit
Ali Shaheed Muhammad, with the singy-singy
Slamming with a slammy you front, on the case
Right or left nut Ali plays the ace
Do what you do, flam for a crew
Bonita Applebum blows smoke in Sha's face
Slang for the kang, you must if you have
Dribble hops out giggle yo proper term is laugh
Brothers who are snakes, I label them as fakes
Instincts to travel up the hood path, c'mon

[Jimi Hendrix dialogue]
Thank you
As you all know, you just can't believe everything you see and hear, can you?
Now if you will excuse me I must be on my way dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)

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