Keep It Rollin' Songtext / Lyric

Verse One: Phife Dawg






Aiyyo swing swing swing, to chop chop chop

Yo that's the sound when MC's get mopped

Don't come around town without the hip in your hop

Cause when the shit hits the fan, that ass'll get dropped

MC's wanna attack me but them punks can't cope

I'll have you left without a job, like Isaac from The Love Boat

So money watch your mouth, or I might have to bust ya

Battlin MC's, from JFK to Russia

Back down to London, Sweden and Brazil

Do a U.S. tour for three months and then a chill

Styles be fat like Jackie Gleason, the rest be Art Carney

People love the Dawg like the kids love Barney

"I love you, you love me"

The shorty Phife Dawg is your favorite MC

So move back yaself dread, you know the element

The Tribe is good for your health like a can of Nutriment

MC's don't have no winds, MC's don't have no winds

I flips you crazier than a busload of Jerry's Kids

Your crew don't want it, man your crew don't want it

But if you feel you can swing it, then money please bring it

(sup) Large Professor in the house (sup)

(sup) You know how we do (sup)

(sup) I stay on your crew (sup)

(whassup) like Mario Lemieux (whassup)

(Whassup?) Peace to Ike Love

(Sup? Hah hah) and the rest of the crew (Whassup?)

(Whassup?) I meet you guys in front the cleaners

Bring the blunts and the brew so



Verse Two: Q-Tip



Whassup kids? The Ab is speaking from the moon

Thanks for your support, aiyyo I'll be home soon

But the only thing I ask when I return from my task

Is a whole bunch of beats and a Blass full of ass

My fist stands firm because I'm, black and solid

I open up your pores like a plate full of collards

C'mon take it easy wouldya, easy easy

I'm up in the gulley, that's when I am her Buddy

She told me pull her hair, I did, it drove her nutty

Filled up the hole like spackle or I mean putty

When we over joints like this we never cruddy

Extra P hooked the beat, and kids it feels luh-huh-ovely

Check it out, cause my conception is immaculate

A bachelor, lookin for a bachlelorette

Back to you MC's, this is what your gonna get

A first degree burn from my man Ken's cigarette

I hope you like Malboro, Paul you know we thorough like Denver

The beat feels like a never-ender

But all things good must, so I won't sweat it

Drop the C's for the youthful crew, I hope you get it

As I stand, grip this mic inside my hand

Boy I smack you up, like I was your old grand

so respect yourself Son, and come and gimme love

Once again the Ab is who you think of

So chill with the beef money, we got a Jetti



Verse Three: Extra P (Large Professor)



It's Extra P and yo Tip I'm bout to set it

on the country once again here to win

I'm Uptown chillin, takin in this grand master Vic blend

from the projects, the PJ's, fuck them two DJ's

Self mission, I had her in the ill position

Saying "Large youse the soul brother that I'd like to

eff with for the rest of my life" yeah yeah now check the method

As I, proceed with what you need like Akinyele

A whip looks complete when the tires say Firelli

Funk monkey, one rapper fell off, now he's a junkie

There's 8 Million Stories in the city it's a pity

Don't fuck with the skins if she's trying to act shitty

Shout to the Guru, Primo and Zulu Zulu

Nation, was on a vacation, in the ghetto

Yo Ras slow your roll I'm bout to bag this here's metal

Rapper Nas on topic, seems we gonna rock it

Queens represent, buy the album when I drop it (drop it)