Forever

Phife DawgPhife Dawg 

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Phife Dawg

Malik Izaak Taylor (November 20, 1970 – March 22, 2016), known professionally as Phife Dawg (or simply Phife), was an American rapper and a member of the group A Tribe Called Quest with Q-Tip and Ali Shaheed Muhammad (and for a short time Jarobi White). He was also known as the "Five-Foot Assassin" and "The Five-Footer", because he stood at 5 feet 3 inches (1.60 m). more »

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(Forever)
Sound so beautiful, don't you agree?
Remind me of mama cleaning, word up (forever)
Grown Folk Music, you know what it is
Uh (forever), yeah
Nottz the ruler, V. Rich, Rasta Roots (forever, motherfuckers)
Shit is overdue, Diggy Dawg, Donald Juice
Y'all know what it is
We're them kids Smokin' Needles (forever, motherfuckers)
More hits than the Beatles

Not tryna express sorrow, mourn full acquainted
The name of the golden era, though, yo, can I live? (Come on)
This here got too much bounce to be melancholic (for real)
Listenin' DJs with the crates, spinnin' at the parties (let's go)
From hole in the wall clubs to a neighborhood basement
Block parties in Queens, new Nile Afro Sheen (uh-huh)
Fourteen ounce of Dax Pomade, Jheri curl, braids, waves
Afros, Gumby's, high tops, fades (come on)
Diadoras, Pumas, Nikes, the brand with three stripes (uh-huh)
All di Clarks, spot bills, British Walkers at night
Shorties lookin' fine (woo) in the flyest designs (mh, mh, mh)
Spandexes, Jordache, staring at Val Coop's ass (stop, Malik)
Baby hair, lip gloss shinin', reason that I got into rhyming (word)
Plus didn't shoot hoops as a pro
Needing that old thing back, 'cause I'm missin' that energy
Requiem for that official, the way Hip Hop is supposed to be

Forever
Forever, forever ever? Forever, ever?
Forever, motherfuckers
Forever
Forever, forever ever? Forever, ever?
Forever, forever ever?
Forever, motherfuckers

Done came a long way with Sha, Jarobi and Tip (wow)
Couldn't tell us we weren't nice, we knew that we was the ish (shh)
'Til the first demo I sold got in the hand of some folks
They listenin', faces screwed, "F*ck is this shit? A joke?"
I'm thinkin', "Back to the drawing board, sirs" 
Today it seems like a blur
Never deferred from being just who we were
Four brothers with a mic and a dream, construction Timbs
Loud dashiki pants or rather my 501 jeans
I felt like the garments we wore were a stretch
A lot of it to the left, at photoshoots rocking Mitchell and Ness
Ali Shaheed barking on me, he vexed (come on, son)
"Do it again, and I'm making sure Chris Lighty takes it out of your check"
First album makes noise overseas, finally makin' some G's
Paying our rents, now my granny is pleased
Up next, Low End Theory, who could relive that energy
Requiem for that official, the way Hip Hop is supposed to be

Forever
Forever, forever ever? Forever, ever?
Forever, motherfuckers
Forever
Forever, forever ever? Forever, ever?
Forever, forever ever?
Forever, motherfuckers

Only rocked on four songs on that first LP (dang)
No verses written by me (nah)
Out to prove to all that I could MC (come on)
Lookin' to battle, what? Who want it with he?
Uniform and fatigues, foam mids, top tens like the D
Sharpen my pen, Shaheed, Fareed on the beats
Second opus complete
Check the rhyme, Cheryl's son 'bout to eat (uh-huh)
September 24th, '91, hey world, here we come
Bassline to "Buggin' Out" soundin' dumb (uh-huh)
Fast forward, November 9th, '93, no time for play
Pickin' up where we left off, straight maraudin' the streets
World abuzz from that Award Tour with De La Soul, Alkoholiks
Souls of Mischief wildin' out on tour
No looking back it was straight steam ahead
Mainstream and street creed
Had no idea me and my boy would bump heads (damn)
If I could do all over again
I'd sit down with my friend
Was zero reason why this shit had to end

Forever
Forever, forever ever? Forever, ever?
Forever, motherfuckers
Forever
Forever, forever ever? Forever, ever?
Forever, forever ever?
Forever, motherfuckers

Hold up, hold up, hold up
Cut that shit off, cut that shit off
Lack of communication killed my tribe, bad vibes
Hence the reason last two albums took a straight nosedive
Truth be told, fans kept us alive
Despite trials, tribe-ulations, no doubt, we were built to survive
Can't speak for everybody or where my dudes' heads are at
But I love you motherfuckers, true spit, all facts
Deep in my soul, I believe what will be shall be
Requiem for a Tribe, 'Ro, Sha', Kamal, and Malik

Forever
Forever, forever ever? Forever, ever?
Forever, motherfuckers
Forever
Forever, forever ever? Forever, ever?
Forever, forever ever?
Forever, motherfuckers

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