A Tribe Called Quest - Buggin’ Out lyrics

Yo, microphone check one, two, what is this?
The five foot assassin with
The roughneck business
I float like gravity, never had a cavity
Got more rhymes than the Winans got family
No need to sweat Arsenio to
Gain some type of fame
No shame in my game cause
I'll always be the same
Styles upon styles upon styles is what I have
You wanna diss the Phifer but you
Still don't know the half
I sport New Balance sneakers to
Avoid a narrow path
Mess around with this you catch a
Size eight up your ass
I never half step cause I'm
Not a half stepper
Drink a lot of soda so they call me Dr pepper
Refuse to compete with BS competition
Your name ain't Special Ed


So won't you seckle with the mission
I never walk the street thinking
It's all about me
Even though deep in my heart
It really could be
I just try my best to like go all out
Some might even say yo shorty
Black you're buggin' out

Zulu Nation, brothers last creation
Minds get flooded, ejaculation
Right on the two inch tape
The Abstract poet incognito, runs the cape
Not the best not the worst
And occasionally I curse
To get my point across, so bust, the floss
As I go in between, the grit and the dirt
Listen to the mission listen Miss
As I do work, umm
As I crack the, monotone
Children of the jazz so, get your own
Smokin R&B cause they try to do me
Or the best of the pack
But they can't do rap
For it's Abstract, original
You can't get your own and that's, pitiful
I know I'd be the man if
I cold yanked the plug
On R&B, but I can't and that's bugged

Yo when you bug out
You usually have a reason for the action
Sometimes you don't it's just
For mere satisfaction
People be hounding, always surrounding
Pulsing, just like a migraine pounding
You don't really fret
You stay in your sense
Camouflage your feeling, of absolute tense
You soar off to another world
Deep in your mind
But people seem to take that, as being unkind
"Oh yo he's acting stank"
Really on a regal?
A man of the fame not a man of the people
Believe that if you wanna but
I tell you this much
Riding on the train with no dough, sucks
Once again a case of your feet in my Nike's
If a crowd is in my realm
I'm saying - mic please
Hip-hop is living, can't yank the plug
If you do the result
Will end up kind of bugged

Yo, I am not an invalid although
I used to smoke the weed out
Ali Shaheed Muhammad used to say
I had to be out
Scheming on the cookies with the
Crazy booming back buns
Pushing on them real hard just so
We can have the big fun
When I left for road, see
I was Boulevard status
Battling a MC was when Tip was at his maddest
It was one MC after one MC
What the world could they be wanting
See from little old me
Do I have the formula to save the world?
Or was it just because I used to
Swipe the women and all the girls
I'm the type of brother with
The crazy extended hand, kid
Dissed by all my brothers I was
All up what my man did supposed to be my man
But now I wonder cause you're feeble
I go out with the strongies
And I separate the evils
It's your brain against my mind
For those about to boot out
All you nasty critters even though
You see I bug out

Buggin' out, buggin' out, buggin' out
You're buggin' out
Buggin' out, buggin' out, buggin' out
You're buggin' out
Buggin' out, buggin' out, buggin' out
You're buggin' out
Buggin' out, buggin' out, buggin' out
You're buggin' out
Buggin' out, buggin' out, buggin' out
You're buggin' out
Buggin' out, buggin' out, buggin' out
You're buggin' out
Buggin' out, buggin' out, buggin' out
You're buggin' out
Buggin' out, buggin' out, buggin' out
You're buggin' out