De La Soul - Verbal Clap lyrics

"You out there? Louder!
Well clap your hands to what he's doing
On tempo Jack"

NYC gave you the ball
So how you gonna hate us?
We creators of them East coast stars
If you ask me I'll tell you there's no comp
But I'm still humble
Even though I will crumble halls
Some call 'em songs, I call 'em words from me
That take long to cook
So some feel free in sayin' that
We don't hunger for beats
Not that we not hungry
Just picky in what we eat
Keep food off the mind and
Keep weight off the body
All you gotta do is keep
My name out your mouth
And stop frownin' like you hostile
You know that it's a booger
Rubbin' up against your nostril
Nigga, how you figure you can play
This rap game without the backbone?
It's Maseo, Dave, Wonder Why
Givin' what you lack holmes

Ayo prepare yo'self for the Neutron, bitch!
This is '86, let that neo rap go
We present these flares to put
Fire to your ears
To lay smoke like rusty exhaust pipes
We run mics, let Sean run the marathon
Yo raise that money son, we raisin these kids
Get claps when curtains close, stage left
Up your stamina baby, bring some breath
SAT book smart, part 'ese
Loc'in like Tone, street niggas get grown
Acquire more couth before you get poofed
Or get some shells sent over
To your mic booth excuse, my delivery
But when peace don't work
See this piece gon' work, cock aim and SHOOT!
It's my constitutional right to bear arms
Arms and bare hands on mics, make fans unite
Woodstock and white folks involved
Black man get on yo' job!

"Well clap your hands to what he's doing
On tempo Jack"

Let's go beat for beat, and rhymes for rhymes
(Put, all, the things aside)
Just bring your beats, and bring your rhymes
(Put, all, the things aside)
Let's go beat for beat, and rhymes for rhymes
(Put, all, the things aside)
Just bring your beats, and bring your rhymes
(Put, all, the things aside)

The heavyweight LI brother with no date
Of expiration on this fate on the mic
Them birthday keep comin'
I'm hated on by niggas I love most
So what threat could you possibly pose
When I'm on your coast?
So raise your guns or your glasses
Either way there'll be a toast in the air
Markin' the return of bare minimums
You need to learn
Get your verbs right when you down to clap

See that gun powder calibre rap'll
Tip hats like gentlemen do
Smash tenements and skyscrapers
Bow-tie papers stacked high
Pay the resident tax or
Get your street sweeped
Front row, backstage or the cheap seats
I +Dodge+ richochets like +Ram+ trucks
You slow poke to pull it
And I sup-pose you wanna
Top the Billboard chart
Man I toast these rhymes and
Then pop like Pop Tarts

Let's go beat for beat, and rhymes for rhymes
(Put, all, the things aside)
Just bring your beats, and bring your rhymes
(Put, all, the things aside)
Let's go beat for beat, and rhymes for rhymes
(Put, all, the things aside)
Just bring your beats, and bring your rhymes
(Put, all, the things aside)

"Well clap your hands to what he's doing"