| (Yeah…I'm gonna take it light… Yeah…D-E-L in the house… funky,
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| funky,
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| funky, funky lyrics… check this out)
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| I contemplate a rhythm with a hunch
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| swing and give a punch and put a fraud out to lunch
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| and scrunch up your rap book pages, eat 'em like it’s licorice
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| snatch your gold chains, steal your gold fronts and return 'em to the
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| caves
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| of the motherland
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| and ride a rhinoceros back to the other land
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| so I can show a foe who is the prototype
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| and then go toe to toe and if the rhythm is hype
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| I take it on my journeys to the mystic place
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| so I can dis the facial value of your ballyhoo
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| see, my style is rather passive but I can get aggressive
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| brothers get done when they try to be impressive
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| 'cause I do not impress easily
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| D-E-L is eager to be the founder of the fragrance
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| and watch the vagrants
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| scatter like rats in the sewer as we do 'em like two secret agents
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| in the region of the forest where the march hare dwells
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| I sit and write scriptures by the old wishin’well
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| collect all my notes and sail a boat back to Berkeley
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| tries fill my vibe 'cause my style is rather earthly
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| some say it’s wack but I ain’t tryin’to hear it as long as what I do contains my soul and my spirit
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| it’s cool, I use this as a rule of thumb
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| I take a dip into the pool of radiance until the fool was done
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| slidin’on the floor like a fat ignoramus
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| ya sold 8 million but ya still don’t entertain us
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| 'cause you’re fraudulent, I have no time for a jester
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| go take your place beside Uncle Fester
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| 'cause you are an uncle too, you are an Uncle Tom
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| and D-E-L and Hieroglyphics gonna drop the bomb
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| (Yeah…under the sun, under the sun, under the sun… we gonna take it light) X3
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| D-E-L, the 18 year old dwella of the meadow
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| is showin’it hell beats livin’in the ghetto
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| things are peaceful and everything’s settle
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| with a good night’s snooze on a bed of rose petals
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| I wake up in the morning feelin’happy and refreshed
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| before I make my journeys I must eat and get dressed
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| a pair of blue jeans and a shirt with greenish hues
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| greener than the grass that was caught between my shoes
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| when I trample through the forest with my brother CM-PX
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| the kinky haired nubian there with a human
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| my hair gets notty without the proper groomin'
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| the whole metamorphis resembles flowers bloomin'
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| in the shadows, deep within the trenches of the sea
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| free as Leah, a head of hair like a tree
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| 'cause I’m a love child, follow me now children
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| 'cause I’m a love child, I love to see the children smile
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| at my answers, foes get frantic and nervous and panic
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| even as I venture past the planet called Earth
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| born from the womb of the nebula
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| deeper in the meadow where my actions are irregula'
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| I bug out and tell my maid to take the rug out
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| and dust it, and proceed to throw the thugs out of the pasture
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| as I recline on a hippo
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| wipe the funky speech and watch my profits seem to triple and quadruple
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| teachin’all the pupils proper scruples in the meadow
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| [CHORUS: (Yeah…under the sun, under the sun, under the sun… we gonna
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| take it light) X4
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| (How ya doin'?, How ya livin'?, in the meadow, in the meadow… hey, How
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| ya feelin'?, How ya doin'…hey…ah yeah…) |