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De La Soul

Hip Hop Music · East Coast Rap · Alternative Hip Hop · Jazz Rap

De La Soul is a Grammy Award-winning hip hop group. They are best known for their eclectic sampling and quirky, surreal lyrics, and their contributions to the evolution of the jazz rap subgenre. The members are Kelvin Mercer (Posdnuos, Mercenary, Plug Wonder Why, Plug One), David Jude Jolicoeur (Trugoy the Dove, Dave, Plug Two) and Vincent Mason (P.A. Pasemaster Mase, Maseo, Plug Three). The three formed the group in high school and caught the attention of producer Paul Huston (Prince Paul) with a demo tape of the song "Plug Tunin'". Prince Paul was also sometimes referred to as Plug Four. Wikipedia

De La Soul - Oooh

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(Redman) * Party people, your dreams have now been fulfilled Get your ass up, and let's get ill That's right y'all, we more than rough, we callin your bluff And when it comes to rhymes... (Brick City)		(Pos) Yo, don't scandalize mine I spent too much time Straight talk with the catch to etch my line walk Never fetchin for crime, halt! Who goes there?
(Dove) Yo, it's the squeeze of five fingers, puffin Smokey the Bear Shinin black like Darth Vader caps, they on stare		(Pos) While we rockin it, I'll rock in it (rock in it) Like the little ball inside the spray can Providing three coats for both child, woman and man
Chorus One: Redman		God bless the God, lay these Streets Wall to Wall It go - oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh! Yo, you got popped like a flick by that rivalry click It went - oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh!
(Pos) It ain't my fault your ass is on the ashphalt Got your chin touched by my fam who though you brought harm, you see I'm iced out like a glass of tea Better yet, oatmeal cookies, y'all just rookies to me Slidin' up and down the court, but I don't think you can D Why try? Maseo be gettin high since Luke was Luke Skywalk' Man, my topic of talk is sheddin shame all over your game Like them shorties who claim that afrocentric lovin is the past drug A life filled with (TWEET) that's what thugs love Snatch you fast, wrap that ass in the rug of your choice while it muffles your voice		(Dove) Now when I'm swimmin through the joint, I put the funk on hold Cause if you don't, you'll see the bubbles come up We run up a tab and gladly add a little extra for miss Flashy faces with bigger lips for that ass to kiss
(Pos) Most crews are post-current while we're forever Direct beats that's contagious, loved by all ages Graduated from the you-and-I-versity of hard-hitters, for real		Chorus Two: Redman
I got niggas in the streets that'll blast your ass for the shine And get - oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh! Yo, if you a fat chick gettin your fuck on tonight Then go - oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh! Yo, put your hands opposite to the ground if you're lovin our sound Go - oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh! Yo, and to my broke niggaz on the corner holdin me down Go - oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh!		(Dove) Yo, I swear Tommy gonna get it, he done did me wrong I had plans to buy more land, plant corn Bust kernels on heat, work hard like wetbacks Set backs is gonna get my ass to be hostile Rockwilder the beat, top dollar defeat Big money's make the big decisions Keep hip-hop alive, it's just an intermission Back to the second half of the feature flick Dick stacks and fuck rap
(Pos) I had a name for makin paper since paper mache Now my dollar coins join pounds of yen for play While you broke niggaz reach drunk much quicker You don't make enough bread to soak up all your liquor Went from God to God damn		(Redman) Damn God, you're killin it Should incorporate it, invest half a mil' in it Rap cats talk with no will in it
(Pos) Soundin like they virtual This joint'll hurt you, yo		(Dove) Twas the night before Christmas and my crib got robbed (shhh shhh shh, shhhhh) They did a job Took all my goodies out from under the tree, except the CD's of shiny-suit rappers and flossin emcees who fail at takin it to rhyme degrees
(Pos) Man, you know no wack poems get no play in our homes You need to not get nappy with me Or else we gon' "relax your mind, let your conscious be free"		Chorus Three: Redman
Yo, where my Wall Street niggaz, if ya up in the stands Go - oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh! To my women that'll throw they hands against they punk-ass man Go - oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh! Yo, if you never been shot or stabbed Brick City go - oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh! Yo, I gotta catch a cab back to the lab so I can smoke - oooh, oooh, oooh, oooh!