Jazz (We've Got) (Re-recording) Songtext / Lyric

We got the jazz

We got the jazz

We got the jazz

We got the jazz



We got the jazz

We got the jazz

We got the jazz

We got the jazz



Stern firm and young with a laid back tongue

The aim is to succeed and achieve at twenty-one

Just like Ringling Brothers, I'll daze and astound

Captivate the mass 'cause the prose is profound



Do it for the strong, we do it for the meek

Boom it in your, boom it in your, boom it in your Jeep

Or your Honda or your Beemer or your Legend or your Benz

The rave of the town, to your foes and your friends






So push it along, trails we blaze

Don't deserve the gong, don't deserve the praise

The tranquility will make ya unball your fist

For we put hip hop on a brand new twist



A brand new twist with the homi-ealistic

So low key that ya probably missed it

And yet it's so loud that it stands in the crowd

When the guy takes the beat, they bowed



So raise up squire, address your attire

We have no time to wallow in the mire

If you're on a foreign path, then let me do the lead

Join in the essence of the cool out breed



Then cool out to the music 'cuz it makes ya feel serene

With the birds and the bees and all those groovy things

Like getting stomach aches when ya gotta go to work

Or staring into space when you're feeling berserk



I don't really mind if it's over your head

'Cuz the job of resurrectors is to wake up the dead

So pay attention, it's not hard to decipher

And after the horns, you can check out the Phifer



We got the jazz

We got the jazz

We got the jazz

We got the jazz



We got the jazz

We got the jazz

We got the jazz

We got the jazz



Competition, dem Phifer come sideway

But competition, dey mus' me come straightway

Competition, dem Phifer come sideway

But competition, dey mus' come straightway



How's about that, it seems like it's my turn again

All through the years, my mic has been my best friend

I know some brothers wonder, can Phifer really kick it?

Some even wanna dis me, but why sweat it?



I'm all into my music 'cuz it's how I make papes

Tryin' to make hits, like Kid Capri makes tapes

Me sweat another? I do my own thing

Strictly hardcore tracks, not a new jack swing



I grew up as a Christian, so to Jah, I give thanks

Collect my banks, listen to Shabba Ranks

I sing and chat, I do all of that

It's 1991 and I refuse to come wack



I take off my hat to other crews that intend to rock

But the Low End Theory's here, it's time to wreck shop

I got Tip and Shah, so whom shall I fear

Stop look and listen but please, don't stare



So jet to the store and buy the LP

On Jive/RCA, cassettes and CD's

Produced and arranged by the four man crew

And oh, shit, Skiff Anselm, he gets props too



Make sure you have a system with some phat house speakers

So the new shit can rock, from Mars to Massapequa

'Cuz where I come from, quality is job one

And everybody up on Linden know we get the job done



So peace to that crew and peace to this crew

Bring on the tour, we'll see you at a theater nearest you

Hey, yo but wait, back it up, hup, easy back it up

Please, let the Abstract embellish on the cut



Back and forth just like a Cameo song

If you dig this joint then please come dance along

To the music, 'cuz it's done just for the rhyme

Now I gotta scat and get mine, underline



The jazz, the what? The jazz can move that ass

'Cuz the Tribe originates that feelin' of pizzazz

It's the universal sound, best to brothers underground

In the one six below, ya didn't have to go



Some say that I'm a sinner 'cuz I once had an orgy

And sometimes for breakfast, I eat grits and porgies

If this is a stinker, then call me a stink, I ask

"What? What?” Now check it out



All my peoples in Queens, ya don't stop

Now all my peoples in Brooklyn, ya don't stop

And all my peoples uptown, ya don't stop

That includes the Bronx a' Harlem, ya don't stop



Now to that girl Ramelle, ya don't stop

I say because Ladies First, ya don't stop

And to the JB's, ya don't stop

And De La Soul, ya don't stop



To my Brand Nubians, ya don't stop

And to my Leaders of the New, ya don't stop

To my man Large Professor, ya don't stop

Pete Rock for the beat, ya don't stop



Everybody in the place, ya don't stop

Ya keep it on, to the rhythm, ya don't stop

And last but not least on the sure shot

It's the Zulu nation