Boof Baf Lyrics - The Fugees

[Wyclef Jean] 

I'm Chill-Master-Nell of a thousand emcees 

But how are you gonna tell the real I bust from these fo' knees 

Cause he sees everyone with a deal with a record company 

They go home, they write a rhyme, they think they ready to battle better 

Some write forward, some write backward 

I wait for them to get the cheeba-ganja then reverse yo 

With a verse that's worse than the last one 

Some say BOO! he's the po he used to diss Jamaicans 

And Hatians cause you thought I was American 

Hey Pras, remember that song they sang, yeah! 

Go back to Jamaica, what's good is what's new 

But now we move off with Uncle's with a trail-crate of cooler! 

[Pras] 

I'm from the island, the island I'm from is the strong island 

Emcees must be right, when I syke from lack of freestylin' 

Mind must be sharp until my holler girl, I get all in 

Black stylin', ridin', Boof'll be trappin' 

When they come to battle champ see the shoes flappin' 

Huh, coolin' while I'm rappin' 

[Chorus: Wyclef Jean] 

(Boff Baf!) another sound of a guy 

(Boff Baf!) never boy, duck punk, try 

(Boff Baf!) another sound of a guy 

(Boff Baf!) never boy, duck punk, try 

[Wyclef Jean] 

Said if you write with pencil you must write with (Pen!) 

If you have a rooster you must have a (Hen!) 

Five plus five you know that equals to (Ten!) 

Then spit the yellow man, check it to groove-to-groove site 

[Pras] 

One, two, I throw a flow to catch it 

Three, four, back she know before the track miss 

I fuck ya when style go, to wreck this static 

(But yo sister, grab the mic and do damage!!) 

[Lauryn Hill] 

Hey yo I used to drive a hooptie, check me down swoopie 

Rollin' with the Jones' but I different homozones 

See life's got no value if I ain't got no statue 

Hannibal heads, I be the kid from "Timbuktu" 

One, two, zip me-me, check the mic I'm ready 

Three, four, please the army "Oh God", with Uzi's 

So what, converse man, the chicken or the hoodie 

Get the hoodie came first then mans' then would be Nancy 

To kill the Jesse James rough, step back, check your steps 

I'll love your theory like the chi-chi-woo-woo-boogie-man 

You say I'm balanced but you're Silence of the Lambs 

And when I call your name I say Candyman, Candyman, Candyman 

Cause I can, can, yes, I can, can 

[Chorus] 

[Wyclef Jean] 

Well I'm on Fire (Fire), Fire (Fire), Fire (Fire) 

So let me re-light your viacom 

And let you enter the-the-elec-tronic (COOL!!) [Repeat: x4] 

All that movin' I call my nozzle you see I was an electronic 

You listen to your lyrics in chime - your Panasonic 

The ly-ly-ly-lyricaler, the di-di-di-digital 

Pras take the mic man, you know you're really critical 

[Pras] 

Stall emcees-soft-put 'em up for-er-Death Row (yeah) 

Rhyme and cultural, style and never old 

Slashed the priest-fool, ooh, you're filth-swolled 

[Wyclef Jean] 

I say no to spliff but my friends still smoke ?Juano? 

Coolin' it, coolin' it, coolin' it 

Somebody chuck me-who the who'd you think? 

Hold the mic, hold the mic, I shoot 'em 

Down with my last one, last one, last one, last one and 

(Boo-shoo-coo-coo!) Smoke! 

I got my bullet-proof and now to send my bozack 

[Chorus] 

[Mad Spider] 

Rich rap come from the brothers in the neigborhood 

Who used to rap on a Polaroid, here comes Father Joe 

Let me clock the block as I pull fo'-five 

Boof Baf, I cut the block with gat-stops 

I used to play hookie just to see how good an emcee was 

He said I bust a battle, alright, I still took a gun 

No cheeba, cheeba just a Libra on a last ride 

I waited so long that I thought I died and came back alive 

So hear the spirits, many fear, ?Sir New Stosser? 

This the new thing under the Sun, when I come, I come 

Bam-bam, alakazam, he grabbed the mic 

Up the block they ran, I came back with the bag 

Cause that's my momma man 

I'm just patrollin', move off in the block 

But the spot that I clock, you get shot if your numbers' about 

So don't get caught in the fast lane, the fast lane 

A just remain yourself and be the same 

Cause many rapper-days, say nothin' for nothin' 

So here's sut-um to take you from the am to the pm 

[Pras] 

Cause a imitator could never be greater than the creator 

Whose the originator, step up infiltrator 

See you in the alligator, back stabbin' traitor 

Tape recorder, duplicator, roughly rhymin' with the head tranzlator, hah! 

And leave the forty to be naughty in the fridgerator! 

[Chorus: Repeats] 

[Wyclef Jean] 

Say gun-man (Boff Baf!) say tell me where you get your ? from (Boff Baf!) 

You must of get it from the foreign land (Boff Baf!) 

We want to shoot up the old a Babylon (Boff Baf!) 

Pay the man to rhyme onto it 

Say gun-man (Boff Baf!) say tell me where you get your ? from (Boff Baf!) 

You must of get it from the foreign land (Boff Baf!) 

You want to kill your own brother man (Boff Baf!), ay, ay, ay (Boff Baf!)