Fugees - Boof Baf Lyrics

I'm Chill-Master-Nell of a thousand MC's
But how are you gonna tell the real rappers from these phonies?
'Cause these days, everyone wanna deal with a record company
They go home, they write a rhyme
They think they ready to battle Wyclef
Some write forward, some write backward
I wait for them to get jiggy then catch 'em in reverse, yo
With a verse that's worse than the last one
Some say boof, Even though you used to diss Jamaicans
And Haitians 'cause you thought I was American
Ay, Pras, remember that song they sang? (Yeah)
(Go back to Jamaica, what's good is what's new)
But now we boof baf the knuckles with the Tranzlator Crew lawd

I'm from the Island, the island I'm from is the Strong Island
Mc's must be wacked when I syke from lack of freestylin'
Mind must be sharp until my holler girl, I get all in
Black stylin', wildin', Boof'll be trappin'
When they come to Battery Sound, see they shoes flappin'
Huh! Coolin' while I'm rappin'

(Boof baf) Another son gonna die
(Boof baf) If a boy just come try
(Boof baf) Another son gonna die
(Boof baf) If a boy just come try

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 spite the yellow man, check it two, one-two, one, syke

(One, two) I throw a flow, go catch it
(Three, four) Back she throw before the track miss
(How far?) Can our style go to wreck this static?
(Will the sister grab the mic and do damage?)

Ayo, I used to drive a hooptie, check me now, Snoopy
Rollin' With The Jones' but I prefer Home Alone
See, life's got no value if I ain't got no statue
Hannibal heads, I be the kid from Timbuktu
(One, two) Simply means, yo, check the mic, I'm ready!
(Three, four!) Means the armies of God with Uzi's
So, what came first, man? The chicken or the hoodie?
If the hoodie came first, then mans' name would be Nancy
So kill the Jesse James, rough, step back, check your stance
I'll let you feel me like the chi-chi-woo-woo-boogie-man
You say non-violence, but you're Silence of The Lambs
And when I call your name, I say Candyman, Candyman, Candyman

(Boof baf) Another son gonna die
(Boof baf) If a boy just come try
(Boof baf) Another son gonna die
(Boof baf) If a boy just come try

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 (coof)
And let you enter the-the-elec-tronic (coof)
And let you enter the-the-elec-tronic (coof)
And let you enter the-the-elec-tronic
All that movin', I call my nozzle you see I was an electronic
You listen to your lyrics in chime, your Panasonic
Ly-ly-ly-lyricaler, the di-di-di-digital
Pras, take the mic, man, you know you're really critical

Stall MC's soft, put 'em up for-ah Death Row (yeah)
Rhyme and cultural, style and never old
Slap a priest fool, ooh, you're filth-swolled

I say no to spliff, but my friends still smoke jumbo coolin' it coolin' it coolin' it
Somebody chuck me a hold the mic, hold the mic, hold the mic
I shoot 'em down with my last one, last one, last one, last one
(Boo-shoo-coo-coo, smoke)
I got my bulletproof and now to send my bozack

(Boof baf) Another son gonna die
(Boof baf) If a boy just come try
(Boof baf) Another son gonna die
(Boof baf) If a boy just come try

This rap goes for the brothers in the neighborhood
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 but got stopped
I used to play hookie just to see how good an MC was
He said I bust a battle aight, I still took a gun
No cheeba, cheeba, just a Libra on a natural high
I waited so long to come out, I died and came back to life
So, hear the spirits, many fear us, a new style, son
This the new thing under the sun, when I come, I come
Bam-bam, alakazam, he grabbed the pocket book, they ran
I came back with the bag 'cause that's my momma, man
I'm just patrollin', boof baf on the block
But the spot that I clock, you get shot if your numbers' are bad
So, don't get caught in the fast lane, the fast lane
And just remain yourself and be the same
'Cause many rappers these days say nuttin' for nuttin'
So, here's somethin', um, to take you from the AM to the PM

'Cause an imitator could never be greater
Than the creator whose the originator, step up perpetrator
See you later, alligator, back-stabbin' traitor
Tape recorder, duplicator
Roughly ridin' with the head Tranzlator, huh!
And leave the 40 to be naughty in the 'frigerator

(Boof baf) Another son gonna die
(Boof baf) If a boy just come try
(Boof baf) Another son gonna die
(Boof baf) If a boy just come try
(Boof baf) Another son gonna die
(Boof baf) If a boy just come try
(Boof baf) Another son gonna die
(Boof baf) If a boy just come try

Say, gun-man (boof baf)
Say, tell me where you get your damn gun from? (Boof baf)
You musta get it from the foreign land (boof baf)
We want to shoot up the whole of Babylon (boof baf)
Pay the man to rhyme onto it
Say, gun-man (boof baf)
Say, tell me where you get your damn gun from? (Boof baf)
You musta get it from the foreign land (boof baf)
You want to kill your own brother, man (boof baf)
Ay, ay, ay (boof baf) what'cha

Cah bad bwoy
Mi ah tell ya, bad bwoy dem a buss shot (boof baf)
An all dem a talk an all dem ah chat (boof baf)
Grab the 9mm an wi arm up di Glock (boof baf)
An all dem a talk, cah trust mi dem cyaa stop (boof baf)
Gi mi di mic becah mi got lyrics to di max (boof baf)
Tell di wul ah dem mi ah di cream ah di crop (boof baf)
Pull up an nuh mek mi a hgo nice up di spot (boof baf)
Massive and crew comin' wicked an hot (boof baf)
Bwoy come try test mi an put on some 'Pac (boof baf)
9mm, got di gun, got di Glock (boof baf)