The Fugees Zealots Lyrics

[Wyclef Jean]
One two - I'm bout to set this off! Like this
Hip-hoppers, check it

{*singing*}
I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
Ohh laww-WWD, father don't let him bury me, whoahhhh

{*rapping*}
I haunt MC's like Mephistopheles, bringin swords of Damocles
Secret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy
Abstract raps simple with a street format
Gaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax
Check out the retrograde motion, kill the notion
of biting and recycling and callin it your own creation
I feel like Rockwell, "Somebody's Watching Me"
I got no privacy whether on land or at sea
And for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonic
Hypocrite, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit
It hurts don't it, a ReFugee come to your turf
and take over the earth

[Lauryn Hill - *singing*]
See my rhymes, are the type of fly rhymes
that can only get down with my crew
And if you try, to take lines or bite rhymes (hehe)
we'll show you how the ReFugees do

{*rapping*}
Yeah, yeah behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymes
Two MC's can't occupy the same s___e at the same time
It's against the laws of physics
So weep as your "Sweet Dreams" break up like Eurythmics
Rap rejects my tape deck, ejects projectile
Whether jew or gentile, I rank top percentile
Many styles, more powerful than gamma rays
My grammar pays, like Carlos Sanatana plays, "Black Magic Woman"
So while you fumin I'm consumin mango juice under Polaris
You just embarrassed cause it's your "Last Tango in Paris"
And even after all my logic and my theory
I add a m_________er so you ig'nant n____z hear me
Crew remember take notes, as I sow my rap oats
And for you biting zealots, here's a quote

[Wyclef Jean - *singing*]
Ay! Another MC lose his life tonight, ohhhhh
I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, whyyyy
Ohh laww-WWD, father don't let him bury we, aiyyyy

{*rapping*}
You can try but you can't divide the tribe
These cats can't rap, Mr. Author I feel no Vibe (whatchu readin?)
The magazine says the girl should have gone solo
The guys should stop rappin - vanish like Menudo
Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his part
As long as someone was listenin, I knew it was a start
For me to get my chance, grab my pen and revamp (bing!)
Do a cameo while everybody do the dance
Quick now, cause you runnin out of luck-a
Playin Mr. Big, "I'm Gonna Get You Sucka"
While you munchin at your luncheon
I'll be plannin your a__assination, then hit you like the Dutchman

[Prazwell]
I compress sound sets with my rap DBX
Then drop vocals on my 456 Ampex
Bring terror to the shop of horror
As she cry, "Mi amor," the Phantom dies in the Opera
And to the young'uns who carry gadgets
And kill six days a week, then rest on the Sabbath (hold up, hold up!)
Violence ain't necessary, unless you provoke me
Then get buried like the great Mussolini
And for you bitin zealots, your rap styles are relics
No matter who you "Damage," you're still a false "Prophet"

[Wyclef Jean - *singing*]
I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, whyyyy
Ohh laww-WWD, father don't let him bury me, yeahhh