| The ticky ticky buzz the sun wakes the sky
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| I fumble through my fuzz and buzz Mr. I
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| Tell him scoop the beats in the flying saucer kit
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| Meet me at the port with the nickel bags and shit
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| Tell my pops I’m out earthbound with the crew
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| He said, «Butterfly may the boogie be with you»
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| Left my mom’s a note with these quotes on a trunk
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| It says «I split to Earth to resurrect the funk»
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| A dozen Snapple pops and a little box of beats
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| Travellin' through space with the funky funky beats
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| Stopped at Pluto to cop some petrol
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| Met some Klingons and got our things on
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| Cruisin' warp 6 with Mr. Wiggles in the mix
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| Hendrix passin' peas, star child get the fix
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| The saucer shook the heavens with the blooms and the blams
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| Because when we hit New York — shazam
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| We droppin' like a comet and this Vulcan tried to Spock it
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| These martians tried to do it, but knew they couldn’t cop it
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| The others from our brother planet lands in the flesh
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| From up in sector 6 yes y’all
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| And it’s good to be here
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| When we landed up on lex
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| Stirrin' up the ground with the sound of Doug E. Fresh
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| And the hard rockin' kids that did it for the black
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| With the Pumas on their feet and the bombers on their back
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| We learned it and we earned it so you know you got to hand it
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| We planned it when we left how to freak it and to slam it
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| Add a Ladybug transformation is complete
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| For the metamorphosis from the box to the Jeep
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| And it’s good to be here
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| Gettin' fly with the raps
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| We love it where we from but we kick it where we at
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| Bumpin' out with somethin' that pops and transcends
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| Dps baby it’s slim but not thin
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| In amongst the pebbles we rocks on your blocks
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| Soakin' in the ghetto for kids that have not
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| Slappin' on some skin when we slam check the cheers
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| So we greet their virgin ears with a kiss
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| It’s so good to be here
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| We jazz up the streets to prove we have beats
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| Fat jazz fat style and the sound so sweet
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| And there ain’t no doubt that you got to check
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| Doodle, Silk, Butter, Mecc
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| It’s so good to be here
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| Yeah baby that’s the style
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| The jazz can fill a club or papers by the pile
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| Just ask toy soldier, toy soldier could of told you
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| At the boomin' funk hut it was the Afro with the butt
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| So to the flam lovers that crowd in dark spots
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| So see 'em kick the lingo and grip that little crotch
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| Now we have arrived with crazy boogie sounds
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| Get yourself a mate today’s to boogie down
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| This is all we know, we feel it when we slams
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| You could hear the love, it comes out in our jams
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| The hip-hop diggin' cats just deliverin' the words
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| From the ghetto-dwellin youth to the bourgies in the burbs
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| And it’s good to be here |