Chanel No. Fever Lyrics - De La Soul

Chorus: 

It's in the back y'all 

It's on the wall y'all 

It's in your head, but it's not the fever 

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Now with the B-I double L bill 

We bill the par territories placing flags on terrains 

Now I said it was yours so snatch the world back from Wayne 

We did, universally sparked the lid 

Now these ladies love how we live 

Got'em caught, shit you already know looking so fly 

That the dog that played spiderweb your up aliasing here 

Sucker cats don't try to steer 

Near this, wish you could bring it this way 

Compliments of Wonder Y and my nigga David J 

So the do, re, mi, fa, sol, la 

Many reach to devour the stage, put the guts out the venue 

Ah, shut up in your face no need to continue 

I've been there, done that 

Received it, won that 

Yo stunned that, that's how you like To Sun frozed 

Keep my shit in harvest like Farmer John grows crops 

Hops, you'll need the whole ceiling to tops 

I saw the empire, set your liquid to fire 

Bim Blam set a flame to your fanny 

Davis the surname like Davis the Sammy 

A grammy, my concern is to earn for a little age 

Next time, next rhyme, next phase 

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Chorus 2x 

Now put your hand on your hip 

Now put your hand on your hip 

And let your backbone slip 

And let your backbone slide 

Now put your hand up on your hip 

Now put your hand up on your hip 

And let your backbone slip for the fever 

Hey, ladies and gents reintroducing to you 

Shootin' shit like hot asses at the sip of bean stew 

Super fat come the visitor zoo 

Peace to my homewood niggas and my man Tofu 

I'm through evil that man do 

Get some ass on the side so my love can shine through 

Pull a cigar with crew, lean back and let it soak 

Your holdin' on to my twelve dollar smoke 

Man, it was Mase who laced the beat from up out the Earth 

Leaving brothers hipnotized like Ootney Fonsworth 

But I'm hip but no tized than that, clap to the break of dawn 

Dada, wonder why it's hotter than hot 

Why not knee, my Steve got niggas on the dick 

They want to join the click 

I hope that ass get a record deal 

So they can feel what I feel 

To overstand that ring ring, how you do is real 

You must be from Italy 'cause all you do is roam 

Microphone to microphone, lookin' for home 

I write a poem to make the publicists flock the prone cop 

China on stage so I don't need a spotlight 

Should be tight like tupperwear supperwear, drawers of socks 

Sippin' on gray pot yo scratch the pork chops 

Cause nothin' here drops 

We're goin' up, up, up, up, up, up, up 

Chorus 3x 

Huh (11x) 

It's the fever