Vocab

About Vocab

"Vocab" is a song written and performed by Fugees, issued as the third single from the group's debut album Blunted on Reality. The song was co-produced by Pras and Wyclef Jean. Like the group's previous single Nappy Heads, "Vocab" is more well-known by its remixes, which were produced by Salaam Remi and the group. The song peaked at #22 on the Billboard rap chart in 1995.

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You got the vocab
I got the vocab
You got the vocab
You know I got the vocab
You got the vocab
I got the vocab
Hey, yo pass the mic so I can tell 'em I got the gift o' gab

Monkey see, monkey what? Monkey, monkey be yourself
Monkey see, monkey what? Monkey, monkey be yourself
Monkey see, monkey what? Monkey, monkey be yourself

Hey yo catch me when I'm sober, but now I drink for the belt
So pass the root straight to the right hand side
Make no mistake that the buzz is a natural high
I said it's big emergency mind your busy body
He hit me, I broke his nose, the referee's Mr. Fugee
So hey to the blue jay, mocking bird don't mock
The last bird who mocked he got caught in my roughneck chicken pot
So Mr. Rooster give me a crookedy croo at 6am
He looked at me a laughin' said my music would make F.M
Station, you're Haitian, you'll never get nowhere
But I sweared on my grandmother grave we'd be here
So now when I back track
I back track far enough to make a nigga run and leave his tongue back
You think I'm cool I think you're cruel so here's a shell cap
On your gluteus maximus and leave ya handicapped
Ratatatat

You got the vocab
I got the vocab
You got the vocab
You know I got the vocab
You got the vocab
I got the vocab
Hey, yo pass the mic so I can tell 'em I got the gift o' gab

Hoboes above leave the boat for the Pope ya
Hoboes above leave the boat for the Pope yo
Hoboes above leave the boat for the Pope 
Boat people here we go hi di hi di hi di ho yeah

Some quest for the truth, some bust a loop
And search for some knowledge that come runnin' in the woods
And if I should to choose to be one
Then I will be a thinkin' hoodlum with books and look to kill
My proof is in my puddin'
If I kill in the hood would you be say that I'm hoodin'?
Now, let me exercise a new style that will brutalize
MCs into a warpath genocide
Nobody move, nobody get hurt, it's a homocide
So jump jump punks ready to get stuck
Evil Kenevil was my man, someone for the stunts
I'm mostly fillies, I'm just straight up front, ha
Meat ya tryin' to light up you get blast like nitrogen
Runnin' for mercy, runnin' for oxygen
Bad L.A. meat you're better off comittin' suicide
I shoot the lip so high I strip you of your carbon dioxide
Rock-a-bye the lullaby he be singin' 'Oh my'
Boof Baff another son a go die

What's the matter with the black man? (Black man)
What's the matter with the black man? (Black man)

Now a statistic, so dreams of her become realistic
Poor bastard gets mystic I don't believe you checked the psychic
Emancipate your mind, don't set the limit, reach the summit
Free your spirit cause your blunted, from the lyrics I just stuttered
Live off the streets says the brother with the machete
Live off the lady says the brother with the Glock in patrol
I live logically, no weak slave to poverty
You see it's very easy to slip between the asphalt street
Brothers from my way they used to get mad plays
Till they caught us bustin' doughnuts 'til the break of day
Brother, my brother, you played me undercover
She wouldn't be your lover so now you tried to diss her
The sister, you missed her but ask yourself a question
Can I make a suggestion? I need a true confession
Is she skivs cause the skin that she's in makes you sin?
Does you hit her just to get her integrate another sister?
Mister, I asked him for a hanky, he asked if he could spank me
So why'd you disrespect me, sir?
Were you thinking I'm misguided or were you tryin to hide it
That you had no father figure
Which? Check out your wackness, it won't distrust my blackness
I would offer a smack, but don't think that it would help this

What's the matter with the black man (black man)
All original gunman dem original good ba ah ah ah ah ah ah
All original gunman dem original good ba ah ah ah ah ah ah

Come jackin' it up an' I bad an' me fell in ma booby trap
With a rappin' up for the eight track play back laid back sit back
And I'll trade it for rap come and runnin' as a matter a fact
'Cause I trappin' a back like a cool six pack now bring it back, woy

United we stand, divided we crumble
What's the flavor? More Babylon, more Babylon, more Babylon fall
United we stand, divided we crumble
What's the flavor? More Babylon, more Babylon, more Babylon fall

These days every man want to be a god
Lay down the gun every man on the floor
But the real gunman him not play Hollywood role
Because he pull out his gun and send another boy down
Watch us bleed, another gunman go bleed
Watch us bleed, if a youth a come ah test ah I got it
Watch us bleed, me up an' comin' ready
Watch us bleed, watch us for original Tranzlator Crew
Oh, er, every time we come, we come correct, see
We out

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Fugees

Fugees (/ˈfuːdʒiːz/) (formerly Tranzlator Crew) were an American hip hop group who rose to fame in the mid-1990s. Their repertoire included elements of hip hop, soul and Caribbean music, particularly reggae. The members of the group were rapper/singer/producer Wyclef Jean, rapper/singer/producer Lauryn Hill and rapper Pras Michel. Deriving their name from the term refugee, Jean and Pras are Haitian, while Hill is American. The group recorded two albums—one of which, The Score (1996), was a multi-platinum and Grammy-winning success—before disbanding in 1997. Hill and Jean each went on to successful solo recording careers; Michel focused on soundtrack recordings and acting, though he found commercial success with his song "Ghetto Supastar". In 2007, MTV ranked … more »

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