Where Fugees At?

(Uh huh, uh huh)
 Feels good to be back at the essence where it all started, you know?
 (Uh huh, uh huh)
 What up Salaam?
 (Uh huh, uh huh)
 Turn up my headphones man
 (Uh huh, uh huh)
 I got a few things I wanna tell the people out there
 (Yo, yo, yo)
 All I hear is "Fugee this, Fugee that
 Where Fugee At? I need Fugees to spit up on this track"
 Lauryn if you're listenin', Pras if you're listenin'
 Gimme a call, I'm in the lab, in the Booga Basement
 Y'all know my style, I'm still mini, money, mini, mini,
 It ain't all about the money
 When I whistle-ah, two dogs by my side, plus a black pistol-ah
 Loud MCs, feel the silencer
 Y'all still rhymin'? Y'all cuckoo, I send psychos to Bellevue
 This ain't a sequel son, but I have you "Scream 2" (AHHH!)
 Real live cinema of the streets produced a junkie
 Put back on your shirt, man, you lookin like E.T.
 You're cracked out, for dough, some blow on saxophone
 You're rhymin' off beat even with help from my metronomes
 See? Y'all aint MCs, you a CM
 Common Motherfucker rhymin' about Lexus and Benz
 The same Benz you got jacked in, drunk off of gin
 You woke up in hell gettin' sexed by Marilyn Manson
 You lie? You deny? Pass me the microphone
 I guess like Eddie Murphy, you was givin 'em a ride home
 Yeah right, 25 mics, material in The Source
 While your rap crew's on steroids lookin' like Full Force
 Your girl, she's buffed, puffed, in daytime, don't play rough
 The freaks come out at night, so that's when I bring out the cuffs
 Grand Marnier, CD player number two
 Sade's in my bedroom singin' "Sweetest Taboo"
 All I hear is "Fugee this, Fugee that
 Where Fugee At? I need Fugees to spit up on this track"
 Lauryn if you're listenin', Pras if you're listenin'
 Gimme a call, I'm in the lab, in the Booga Basement
 Y'all know my style, I'm still mini, money, mini, mini,
 It ain't all about the money
 We used to rap, now y'all wanna come and get me with a bat?
 Y'all must be smokin crack, with Pookie from New Jack
 How could y'all forget? I'm the reason y'all MCs
 But y'all flip like Pharisees and charge me for blasphemy
 You know who you are, eight bar superstar
 Karate cars, buy up the bars with the credit cards
 You wanna impress some young chick you just met?
 First thing she say, "Ain't you used to roll with Wyclef?"
 Look surprised to see your flesh outside your vest?
 Yeah, you could fight, in the WWF
 'Cause in this arena ain't nothin but gladiators and haters
 Hoping they kill me and roll and feed me to the tigers
 Oh Lord, protect me from the devil
 They open the book of life, y'all readin' like the anti-Christ
 You're weak kid, stop lyin' to the public
 You wanted it so bad that you took all the production credits
 Some MCs in the underground
 Mad at me 'cause I'm above ground, counting English pounds
 I tell y'all what, success don't come overnight
 I was in Noah's Ark for Forty days and Forty nights
 Contemplating, "What should I write? What should I recite?
 'Cause ain't nobody here but thugs and chicks with ice"
 That's when I daydream into the twilight
 Girls with they man, screaming "I hate life"
 Baby girl, look in the opposite direction
 'Cause my class is the "Misedu-"
 All I hear is "Fugee this, Fugee that
 Where Fugee At? I need Fugees to spit up on this track"
 Lauryn if you're listenin', Pras if you're listenin'
 Gimme a call, I'm in the lab, in the Booga Basement
 Y'all know my style, I'm still mini, money, mini, mini,
 It ain't all about the money