Q-Tip - Wait Up Lyrics
(Electronic Beeping noice for about 20 seconds)We on a brand new page. (";Uh.";) Millennium days,desperation on the streets gotta find a new wayKeep the mics and choke holds. The saga unfoldsMachavellian approaches executed by the coachI'm in these streets like a ghostThe air-jettin' artistTo the love, I hit 'em right plus I hit the hardest, manI got a whole new approach for the rhymin'You cherry cats slide, I'm holdin out for the HeismanUh! You play the rappin' rollI take the rap and sold,and intertwine it wit' mine and turn a half to wholeI'm just a genie in a Jack bottleThem fake ballin'-ass cats is just a wack modelThis joint knocks wit' the force of a gat throttleI live by 'You put it out, we get it back' mottoHey. But who around but just your average reproduction, loveRap is gettin' lose so all the ice is screamin' 'Thug'What the hell is wrong? I'm askin' in this songOne time I smoked hash out of the hippies' bongOne of us is goin' laid 'cause I ain't gettin' playedI leave you right inside that shitty-ass bed you madeand walk along chuggin' Baller's Brains, rockin' ringsand things and just waitin' for white rainsI got the drive, dog. I hope the dogs' readyMy mentality on dime chicks is stay sweatyWait up. Your wait up. Wait up.Get your (";It's the Ummah for all time.";) wait up.Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.Get your (";The Ummah forevea!";) wait up.Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.Get your (";GET YOUR WAAAIIIIIIIIIIT...";) wait up.Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.Get your (";..UP! UP! UP! UP! Yo!"; ) wait up.You wanna shoot dice or wanna shoot rounds?Wanna sell rhymes or wanna sell pounds?The decision is yours. I'd rather see tours,get chicks wit' ghetto shit fallin' out they drawersMy team stay posted. They stay roastedNiggas who all in it had a hard knock livin'Administra, rhyme minista, illa treasuraYou didn't know that your man was a legend, huh?Embonishment for the both of youI hit the road and I take my whole *****in' crewcause I'm a Queens cat. (";True.";) To the G's cat. (";True.";)Gettin' money for more than one needs cat. (";Aiiight, c'mon.";)Condition never peers and (";Take it home, kid.";) mind stands outFrom Seattle to South Beach my joint: grand cloutIt's the street commentator, providin' you wit' dataon how to live unique and it's really not neat. We gotta...Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.Get your (";Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah.";) wait up.Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.Get your (";Brand new shit, huh.";) wait up.Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.Get your (";GET YOUR WAAAIIIIIIIIIIT...";) wait up.Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.Get your (";..UP! UP! UP! YEAH! HA-HAA...";) wait up.And all the fellas go, 'Yeah, yeah, yeah.'And all my ladies go, 'Uh, uh, uh.'And all the fellas go, 'Yeah, yeah, yeah.'And all the ladies go, 'Uh, uh, uh.'Fellas go, 'Where you at?'Ladies go, 'Yo, come back!'Fellas go...ladies go...Fellas go...ladies...yo...A mellow disposition even when it's painYour mental ammunition is faulty wit' a drainI puts it down, Lord, ***** a mic cordBrother's out of his game so we can see toursThe innovator - your man still a haterThe Abstract imprint, it stays like a SmintI got the masses cold, wigglin' and shakin' they assMa, you betta get involved and do it real fast(Beeping starts again but with instrumental backing it)
