Lyrics What I'm Supposed 2 B - Monie Love

What I'm Supposed 2 B

Give me the funky beat you know the point I won’t miss, uh
This is for the twin, and this is for the sister
Something gets you all excited too and I’ma swing it
What exactly should I do?
(Come on, Monie, sing it)
Didn’t anybody tell you I can be the life and soul
Of your party?
Yes I’m from England, but I ain’t La-Di-Da-Di
Givin' it up to you and yo I think I sound swell
You ain’t rollin' with The Roots?
Oh well
I the stuff, you shuffle it, it’s not to Monie’s taste
You’re walkin' in the dark and I believe that is a waste
Case is reopened, Monie will review it
Your butt is in my face so with a pencil I’ll screw it
Yeah that’s right you deserve to be the butt
For mine and my business, and so what
If you’re offended?
I was offended, but now I mend it
Put your remarks in an envelope and send them
To hell.
I don’t even want to smell you close to me
For tellin' people What I Am Supposed 2 B
When you wake up in the morning, do you really smell the coffee?
Or think of other ways to say something else of me
Well hang it up, drop it, end of the line
I guess you don’t have a life, that’s why you livin' mine
I’m the Mo, and if you Funk Wid Me
It would be a big mistake, oh what a punk you’d be
For the simple-simple reason you lost your boots
Don’t seem like you wanna find them—
So why should I give a hoot?
Scoot,
Don’t be trying to play me out
Like I said, and I can do this, you deserve a clout
But that’s okay, today is my day
I’ma just tell you 'bout yourself and pray
You snap out of it, although I doubt that you will do this
You’re headin' towards a case of just hopelessness
All you seem to want to do is laugh, hee-hee-hee
While I’m tellin' folks What I Am Supposed 2 B
Monie is a sister, an auntie, a daughter
These are things you don’t know which I think you oughta
Cut the crap, don’t give me that, your mouth is like a slit
That opens every time somebody wants to hear shit
Get real, scoop your dooty up, shovel it someplace else
Like in between the split, yeah that’s legit
It fits.
Get back, stay back, don’t be foolish
Because you’ve been scored the number-one dummy, honey
Monie is a modest little person
It’s people like you that tend to bring out the cursin'
Within me.
Forgive me
Those who chose the righetous road to war
I had to make a comment to make the fools cease to talk
About me.
I see myself as gossip-free
I don’t be sayin' nothin' 'bout nobody
Why should they do it to me?
I had no album, I had no nothin'
Cause this was back in the days, and yet still they was discussin'
The Mo. What’s your problem?
You have nothin' to call your own?
Well, that’s besides the point in this poem
And for your information I’ll tell you Who I’m Supposed 2 B
Cause it’s a matter of who I am: M-O-N-I-E
Indeed the Monie was born in B-A-double-T-E-R-S-E-A
I say, how many games would you like to play?
Monopoly, Scrabble, show me a magic trick
I’ll plain stab you in the back, in which case you must be sick
Don’t try to get by by saying «Hi, do you know a Monie?
She used to live in my building.
She’s my friend.»
That’s old
You made up your mind to be unkind, that’s your prerogative
Too.
Therefore I’m afraid I don’t know you
So don’t persist trying to bother me, cause you’re a stranger
Is that so hard to understand?
I’m speaking English ain’t I?
And I mustn’t forget to mention I remember where I come from
I know where I’m at and where I’m going to so, dumb one
Whatever belongs to you, business-wise I suggest you go and mind it
I don’t give a damn how long it takes you to find it
Remain in your own residency
Cause I know Who and What I’m Supposed 2 B