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Jazz (We've Got)
by A TRIBE CALLED QUEST

Send "Jazz (We've Got)" Ringtone to your Cell

lyrics to Jazz (We've Got) / A Tribe Called Quest

A Tribe Called Quest
Jazz (we Got The...)

Intro/chorus
We got the jazz [x4]
Verse one: q-tip
Stern firm and young with a laid-back tongue
The aim is to succeed and achieve at 21
Just like ringling brothers, i'll daze and astound
Captivate the mass, cause the prose is profound
Do it for the strong, we do it for the meek
Boom it in your boom it in your boom it in your jeep
Or your honda or your beemer or your legend or your benz
The rave of the town to your foes and your friends
So push it, along, trails, we blaze
Don't deserve the gong, don't deserve the praise
The tranquility will make ya unball your fist
For we put hip-hop on a brand new twist
A brand new twist with the homie-alistic
So low-key that ya probably missed it
And yet it's so loud that it stands in the crowd
When the guy takes the beat, they bowed
So raise up squire, address your attire
We have no time to wallow in the mire
If you're on a foreign path, then let me do the lead
Join in the essence of the cool-out breed
Then cool out to the music cuz it makes ya feel serene
Like the birds and the bees and all those groovy things
Like getting stomach aches when ya gotta go to work
Or staring into space when you're feeling berserk
I don't really mind if it's over your head
Cuz the job of resurrectors is to wake up the dead
So pay attention, it's not hard to decipher
And after the horns, you can check out the phifer
Chorus
Verse two: phife dawg
Competition, dem phifer come sideway
But competition, dey mus' me come straightway
Competition, dem phifer come sideway
But competition, dey mus' come straightway
Hows about that, it seems like it's my turn again
All through the years my mike has been my best friend
I know some brothers wonder, can phifer really kick it?
Some even wanna dis me, but why sweat it?
I'm all into my music cuz it's how i make papes
Tryin' to make hits, like kid capri makes tapes
Me sweat another? i do my own thing
Strictly hardcore tracks, not a new jack swing
I grew up as a christian so to jah i give thanks
Collect my banks, listen to shabba ranks
I sing, and chat, i do all of that
It's 1991 and i refuse to come wack
I take off my hat to other crews that intend to rock
But the low end theory's here, it's time to wreck shop
I got tip and shah, so whom shall i fear
Stop look and listen, but please don't stare
So jet to the store, and buy the lp
On jive/rca, cassettes and cd's
Produced and arranged by the four-man crew
And oh shit, skiff anselm, he gets props too
Make sure you have a system with some phat house speakers
So the new shit can rock, from mars to massapequa
Cuz where i come from quality is job one
And everybody up on linden know we get the job done
So peace to that crew, and peace to this crew
Bring on the tour, we'll see you at a theatre nearest you
Verse three: q-tip
Hey yo but wait, back it up, hup, easy back it up
Please let the abstract embellish on the cut
Back and forth just like a cameo song
If you dig this joint then please come dance along
To the music cuz it's done just for the rhyme
Now i gotta scat and get mine, underline
The jazz, the what? the jazz can move that ass
Cuz the tribe originates that feelin' of pizzazz
It's the universal sound, best to brothers underground
In the one-six below, ya didn't have to go
Some say that i'm a sinner cuz i once had an orgy
And sometimes for breakfast i eat grits and porgies
If this is a stinker, then call me a stink, i ask
"what? what? what?" - now check it out
All my peoples in queens ya don't stop
Now all my peoples in brooklyn ya don't stop
And all my peoples uptown ya don't stop
That includes the bronx a' harlem ya don't stop
Now to that girl ramelle ya don't stop
I say because ladies first ya don't stop
And to the jb's, ya don't stop
And de la soul, ya don't stop
To my brand nubians ya don't stop
And to my leaders of the new ya don't stop
To my man large professor ya don't stop
Pete rock for the beat ya don't stop
Everybody in the place ya don't stop
Ya keep it on, to the rhythm, ya don't stop
And last but not least on the sure shot
It's the zulu nation

Stern firm and young with a laid-back tongue
The aim is to succeed and achieve at 21
Just like Ringling Brothers, I'll daze and astound
Captivate the mass, cause the prose is profound

Do it for the strong, we do it for the meek
Boom it in your boom it in your boom it in your Jeep
Or your Honda or your Beemer or your Legend or your Benz
The rave of the town to your foes and your friends

So push it, along, trails, we blaze
Don't deserve the gong, don't deserve the praise
The tranquility will make ya unball your fist
For we put hip-hop on a brand new twist

A brand new twist with the homie-alistic
So low-key that ya probably missed it
And yet it's so loud that it stands in the crowd
When the guy takes the beat, they bowed

So raise up squire, adjust your attire
We have no time to wallow in the mire
If you're on a foreign path, then let me do the lead
Join in the essence of the cool-out breed

Then cool out to the music cuz it makes ya feel serene
Like the birds and the bees and all those groovy things
Like getting stomach aches when ya gotta go to work
Or staring into space when ya feelin' berserk

I don't really mind if it's over your head
Cuz the job of resurrectors is to wake up the dead
So pay attention, it's not hard to decipher
And after the horns, you can check out the Phifer

Chorus

Verse Two: Phife

Competition, dem Phifer come sideway
But competition, dey mus' me come straightway
Competition, dem Phifer come sideway
But competition, dey mus' come straightway

How's about that, it seems like it's my turn again
All through the years my mike has been my best friend
I know some brothers wonder, can Phifer really kick it?
Some even wanna dis me, but why sweat it?

I'm all into my music cuz it's how I make papes
Tryin' to make hits, like Kid Capri mix tapes
Me sweat another? I do my own thing
Strictly hardcore tracks, not a new jack swing

I grew up as a Christian so to Jah I give thanks
Collect my banks, listen to Shabba Ranks
I sing, and chat, I do all of that
It's 1991 and I refuse to come wack

I take off my hat to other crews that intend to rock
But the Low End Theory's here, it's time to wreck shop
I got Tip and Shah, so whom shall I fear
Stop look and listen, but please don't stare

So jet to the store, and buy the LP
On Jive/RCA, cassettes and CD's
Produced and arranged by the four-man crew
And oh shit, Skeff Anslem, he gets props too

Make sure you have a system with some phat house speakers
So the new shit can rock, from Mars to Massapequot
Cuz where I come from quality is job one
And everybody up on Linden know we get the job done

So peace to that crew, and peace to this crew
Bring on the tour, we'll see you at a theatre nearest you

Verse Three: Q-Tip

Hey yo but wait, back it up, huh, easy back it up
Please let the Abstract embellish on the cut

Back and forth just like a Cameo song
If you dig this joint then please come dance along
To the music cuz it's done just for the rhyme
Now I gotta scat and get mine, underlined

The jazz, the what? The jazz to move that ass
Cuz the Tribe originates that feelin' of pizzazz
It's the universal sound, best to brothers on the ground
And the ones six below, ya didn't have to go

Some say that I'm a sinner cuz I once had an orgy
And sometimes for breakfast I eat grits and porgies
If this is a stinker, then call me a stink, I ask
"What? What? What?" - check it out

All my peoples in Queens ya don't stop
Now all my peoples in Brooklyn ya don't stop
And all my peoples uptown ya don't stop
That includes the Bronx an' Harlem ya don't stop

Now to that girl Ramelle ya don't stop
I say because Ladies First ya don't stop
And to the JB's, ya don't stop
And De La Soul, ya don't stop

To my Brand Nubians ya don't stop
And to my Leaders of the New ya don't stop
To my man Large Professor ya don't stop
Pete Rock for the beat ya don't stop

Everybody in the place ya don't stop
Ya keep it on, to the rhythm, ya don't stop
And last but not least on the sure shot
It's the Zulu nation

Q-tip:
Woo...grand groove, grand groove (2x)
Rough, rough, rugged
Tough like a nugget
Listen to the abstract poetic, don't snub it
The midnight marauder is the hype beat arranger
Don't front on the lyrics or the two cuz it's danger
Hook you like a junkie, you'll flip like a monkey
To the openness of the rhythm, so proceed because i'm funky
I get down, down like a fly hooker's panties
Make you catch a spirit and motivate a fanny
I be the fly poet, rappers, they get jelly
Upset when i rock, cuz yo, they beats is smelly
See, i got it goin on like a forbes tax return
Listenin to these lyrics when it's hot will make it burn
Baby burn, baby burn, up into the heavens
The skies up above, the one you think of
Is the highly regarded, hell of the people
Your mic and my mic? come on, yo, no equal
So if ya wanna do it to yourself
That is to mess around with the jazz, then just blame yourself
Cuz you made your bed, so now you lay in it
That's your (shit) on the floor, then go and play in it
I refuse to catch a 'l' in a battle
Cuz yo, i got the jazz and i'll whup a rapper's (ass)
Into little next to nuthin
Test me if i'm frontin
I'm passin flyin colors cuz yo...
Chorus (q-tip):
Who got the jazz? (we've got the jazz) (7x)
We've got the jazz
Come on
Come on, phife
Phife:
No need for introductions cuz you know who i be (the phife dawg)
Yep, the one who loves to slaugher mcs
I got style, grace and razamatazz
I'm like my girl patrice rushen, yo
I add pizazz, now
Most people remember phife from the phife like smoothness
But now it's time to hit you with roughneck rudeness
I'm still vexed, fuming, gots to come raw
The first punk that tries to flex, i'll be cracking your jaw
I'll mold you, fold you, roll you up like a spliff
Don't ever try to test or else that (ass) will get whipped
I'm forever poppin junk, its like a fat invite
To any mc who wants to flex, yo, we can do this tonight
Gel up my posse up on linden and 1-9-2
Pull up my brothas from sayers ave., the brooklyn zoo
All my crew up in strong island, so yo, don't sleep
Cuz it only takes a peek to watch that (ass) get beat
Brothas wanna play rough, but they can all get some
Wanna be hero, but you're a zero, that means you gets none
Don't ever try to step to a kid you can't get with
Why mess with a brotha that your girl once slept with?
I'm a negro, he's a negro, wanna be a negro too?
But beatin on a woman, is somethin that a puss would do
I love jazz, but that doesn't mean that i'm timid
Not really a gangsta rapper but i can swing it for a minute
Q-tip:
Who got the jazz? (we've got the jazz) (3x)
Come on
Who got the jazz? (we've got the jazz) (3x)
Come on
I go...woo...grand groove, grand groove
Ooh...grand groove, grand groove
Check it out
We got the jazz y'all (3x)
(ad lib)

Q-Tip:
Woo...Grand groove, grand groove (2X)
Rough, rough, rugged
Tough like a nugget
Listen to the Abstract Poetic, don't snub it
The Midnight Marauder is the hype beat arranger
Don't front on the lyrics or the two cuz it's danger
Hook you like a junkie, you'll flip like a monkey
To the openness of the rhythm, so proceed because I'm funky
I get down, down like a fly hooker's panties
Make you catch a spirit and motivate a fanny
I be the fly poet, rappers, they get jelly
Upset when I rock, cuz yo, they beats is smelly
See, I got it goin on like a Forbes tax return
Listenin to these lyrics when it's hot will make it burn
Baby burn, baby burn, up into the heavens
The skies up above, the one you think of
Is the highly regarded, hell of the people
Your mic and my mic? Come on, yo, no equal
So if ya wanna do it to yourself
That is to mess around with the jazz, then just blame yourself
Cuz you made your bed, so now you lay in it
That's your (shit) on the floor, then go and play in it
I refuse to catch a 'L' in a battle
Cuz yo, I got the jazz and I'll whup a rapper's (ass)
Into little next to nuthin
Test me if I'm frontin
I'm passin flyin colors cuz yo...
Chorus (Q-Tip):
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz) (7X)
We've got the jazz
Come on
Come on, Phife
Phife:
No need for introductions cuz you know who I be (the Phife Dawg)
Yep, the one who loves to slaugher MCs
I got style, grace and razamatazz
I'm like my girl Patrice Rushen, yo
I add pizazz, now
Most people remember Phife from the Phife like smoothness
But now it's time to hit you with roughneck rudeness
I'm st

Q-tip:
Woo...grand groove, grand groove (2x)
Rough, rough, rugged
Tough like a nugget
Listen to the abstract poetic, don_t snub it
The midnight marauder is the hype beat arranger
Don_t front on the lyrics or the two cuz it_s danger
Hook you like a junkie, you_ll flip like a monkey
To the openness of the rhythm, so proceed because I_m funky
I get down, down like a fly hooker_s panties
Make you catch a spirit and motivate a fanny
I be the fly poet, rappers, they get jelly
Upset when I rock, cuz yo, they beats is smelly
See, I got it goin on like a forbes tax return
Listenin to these lyrics when it_s hot will make it burn
Baby burn, baby burn, up into the heavens
The skies up above, the one you think of
Is the highly regarded, hell of the people
Your mic and my mic? come on, yo, no equal
So if ya wanna do it to yourself
That is to mess around with the jazz, then just blame yourself
Cuz you made your bed, so now you lay in it
That_s your (shit) on the floor, then go and play in it
I refuse to catch a _l_ in a battle
Cuz yo, I got the jazz and I_ll whup a rapper_s (ass)
Into little next to nuthin
Test me if I_m frontin
I_m passin flyin colors cuz yo...
Chorus (q-tip):
Who got the jazz? (we_ve got the jazz) (7x)
We_ve got the jazz
Come on
Come on, phife
Phife:
No need for introductions cuz you know who I be (the phife dawg)
Yep, the one who loves to slaugher mcs
I got style, grace and razamatazz
I_m like my girl patrice rushen, yo
I add pizazz, now
Most people remember phife from the phife like smoothness
But now it_s time to hit you with roughneck rudeness
I_m still vexed, fuming, gots to come raw
The first punk that tries to flex, I_ll be cracking your jaw
I_ll mold you, fold you, roll you up like a spliff
Don_t ever try to test or else that (ass) will get whipped
I_m forever poppin junk, it_s like a fat invite
To any mc who wants to flex, yo, we can do this tonight
Gel up my posse up on linden and 1-9-2
Pull up my brothas from sayers ave., the brooklyn zoo
All my crew up in strong island, so yo, don_t sleep
Cuz it only takes a peek to watch that (ass) get beat
Brothas wanna play rough, but they can all get some
Wanna be hero, but you_re a zero, that means you gets none
Don_t ever try to step to a kid you can_t get with
Why mess with a brotha that your girl once slept with?
I_m a negro, he_s a negro, wanna be a negro too?
But beatin on a woman, is somethin that a puss would do
I love jazz, but that doesn_t mean that I_m timid
Not really a gangsta rapper but I can swing it for a minute
Q-tip:
Who got the jazz? (we_ve got the jazz) (3x)
Come on
Who got the jazz? (we_ve got the jazz) (3x)
Come on
I go...woo...grand groove, grand groove
Ooh...grand groove, grand groove
Check it out
We got the jazz y_all (3x)
(ad lib)


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A Tribe Called Quest Jazz (We've Got) lyrics


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Artists like A Tribe Called Quest ...
- De La Soul
- Q-Tip
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