What Really Goes On

Chorus:
 We got the bump-da-bump-da-bump bump(6X)
 We got the bump-da-bump-da-bump bump-da-bump-da-bump
 Bump-da-bump-da-bump
 Q-Tip:
 Yo, we preparin ourselves for this ultimate war
 The MCs are really lost and it's at a big cost
 We be rhymin at our show thinkin we gettin dough
 Movin throught every town off the fumes of...
 And accolades of the crowd with our chests out proud
 Yo, we bout to pack these joints so that these... sound loud
 Some kids be actin stank like a baby pant
 It's the rapper Abstract that make the joint get amped
 Yo, use your body maker and use your minds, to break true
 Yo, we gotta do the do
 Son, we livin in a time where mad folks talk (shit)
 Representin they crews or they East-West clicks
 Let me tell everybody from coast to coast
 About the lands we boast, but we don't own jack
 How the (fuck) we movin through makin moves like that?
 How the (hell) we movin through makin moves like that?
 Can you explain that? I doubt that, very highly
 We got jewels and Mo and the life is tight rowdy
 Everybody lookin (shitty) like a to' down committee
 Let's make these institutions, body slam for the smitties
 I got girls with plenty tails, smarts and big (titties)
 And they all stressin me, yo, really?
 What really goes on? (James Brown: I don't know)
 Chorus:
 Q-Tip:
 One is for the beat and the two is for the rhyme
 Three is for the life, now we on this incline
 Never catch this kid stickin forks in swine
 Never ran my gibs in nuthin less than a dime
 A few of my brothas did that asshole one time
 Strivin miss sunrise, sometimes is known as crime
 The three twenty-five got that Windex shine
 And when I shot skelly, I had my boxes in lines
 All I wanna do is live life and be fair
 I used to stress girls with long legs and long hair
 Now, I want a woman with a spiritual flair
 God will never make it too hard for me to bare
 I'm hungry like a derelict whose stays in the diluse
 Some can count me out, but yo, I doubt that I lose
 The Westernized world got our minds confused
 You frontin on me, ak, then you don't get bruised
 The funny style cats, they be playin games like Chucky
 Government officials shoot their same old...
 Made of devil agents a. k. a. the devil flunky
 Stiff (ass) squares gettin mad cuz we funky
 This the crap game, then we got the top rolls
 The positive jumps the negative like frogs
 Resentin evil vibes, yo, that (shit) is at the morgue
 We celebrate laughin down in at the smorgas borg
 You still lookin (shitty) like a to' down committee
 Let's make this institution, buy the land for the smitties
 I got girls with tails, plenty smarts and big (titties)
 And they all stressin me... really
 Chorus: