Listen up everybody, the bottom line
I'm a black intellect, but unrefined
With precision like a bullet, target bound
Just living like a hooker, the harlot sounds
Now when I say the harlot, you know I mean the hot
Heat of the equator, the broth that's in the pot
Jalick, Jalick ya wind up ya hip
Drafting of the poets, I'm the #7 pick
Licks licks licks boy 'pon your backside
Licks licks licks boy 'pon your backside
Listen to the fader, Shaheed lets it glide
Tip the earthly body, heaven's on my side
Even in Santo Domingo when I got a Gringo
We got mics, when do we go?
Know a little nigga who can rhyme when you ask me
Short, dark, and plus his voice is raspy
1 for the treble, 2 for the bass
You know the style Tip, it's time to flip this
I like my beats hard like two day old shit
Steady eating booty MCs like cheese grits
My man Al B. Sure, he's in effect mode
Used to have a crush on Dawn from En Vogue
It's not like honey dip would wanna get with me
But just in case I own more condoms than T.L.C
Now the formula is this: me, Tip, and Ali
For those who can't count it goes 1-2-3
The anti batty boy, big up is who I be
Brothers find this hard to do but never me
Some brothers try to diss but Malik, you see 'em bitching
Me no care about them dibby MC, my shit is hitting
Trini gladiator, anti-hesitater
Shaheed push the fader from here to Grenada
Mr Energetic, who me sound pathetic?
When's the next time you'll hear a funky diabetic?
(I don't know man, I don't know man, I don't know man)
(I don't know, I don't know)
Oh my God, yes, oh my God (x8)
Complementary are we, the three for poetry
I got a humdinger coming hook line and sinker
The Timbo hoofs with the prints on the ground
Timbos on the toes, I like the way it's going down
Down like a lady of the evening
When it goes in Toots just believe it's in
Cause Queens is the county, Jamaica is the place
Take off your cleats cause you can't run the race
Oh my God, yes, oh my God (x8)
The title MC means Master of Ceremony
Some people who MC don't know what this term means
Oh My God Video (MV)
Performed By: Undercover
Length: 4:28
Written by: Kamaal Ibn John Fareed, Ali Shaheed Jones-Muhammad, Malik Izaak Taylor, Gene C. Redd, Robert Earl Bell, Ronald N. Bell, George Melvin Brown, Robert Spike Mickens, Claydes Eugene Smith, Woodrow Sparrow, Dennis Thomas, Richard A. Westfield
Undercover - Oh My God Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Listen up everybody, the bottom line
I'm a black intellect, but unrefined
With precision like a bullet, target bound
Just living like a hooker, the harlot sounds
Now when I say the harlot, you know I mean the hot
Heat of the equator, the broth that's in the pot
Jalick, Jalick ya wind up ya hip
Drafting of the poets, I'm the #7 pick
Licks licks licks boy 'pon your backside
Licks licks licks boy 'pon your backside
Listen to the fader, Shaheed lets it glide
Tip the earthly body, heaven's on my side
Even in Santo Domingo when I got a Gringo
We got mics, when do we go?
Know a little nigga who can rhyme when you ask me
Short, dark, and plus his voice is raspy
1 for the treble, 2 for the bass
You know the style Tip, it's time to flip this
I like my beats hard like two day old shit
Steady eating booty MCs like cheese grits
My man Al B. Sure, he's in effect mode
Used to have a crush on Dawn from En Vogue
It's not like honey dip would wanna get with me
But just in case I own more condoms than T.L.C
Now the formula is this: me, Tip, and Ali
For those who can't count it goes 1-2-3
The anti batty boy, big up is who I be
Brothers find this hard to do but never me
Some brothers try to diss but Malik, you see 'em bitching
Me no care about them dibby MC, my shit is hitting
Trini gladiator, anti-hesitater
Shaheed push the fader from here to Grenada
Mr Energetic, who me sound pathetic?
When's the next time you'll hear a funky diabetic?
(I don't know man, I don't know man, I don't know man)
(I don't know, I don't know)
Oh my God, yes, oh my God (x8)
Complementary are we, the three for poetry
I got a humdinger coming hook line and sinker
The Timbo hoofs with the prints on the ground
Timbos on the toes, I like the way it's going down
Down like a lady of the evening
When it goes in Toots just believe it's in
Cause Queens is the county, Jamaica is the place
Take off your cleats cause you can't run the race
Oh my God, yes, oh my God (x8)
The title MC means Master of Ceremony
Some people who MC don't know what this term means
I'm a black intellect, but unrefined
With precision like a bullet, target bound
Just living like a hooker, the harlot sounds
Now when I say the harlot, you know I mean the hot
Heat of the equator, the broth that's in the pot
Jalick, Jalick ya wind up ya hip
Drafting of the poets, I'm the #7 pick
Licks licks licks boy 'pon your backside
Licks licks licks boy 'pon your backside
Listen to the fader, Shaheed lets it glide
Tip the earthly body, heaven's on my side
Even in Santo Domingo when I got a Gringo
We got mics, when do we go?
Know a little nigga who can rhyme when you ask me
Short, dark, and plus his voice is raspy
1 for the treble, 2 for the bass
You know the style Tip, it's time to flip this
I like my beats hard like two day old shit
Steady eating booty MCs like cheese grits
My man Al B. Sure, he's in effect mode
Used to have a crush on Dawn from En Vogue
It's not like honey dip would wanna get with me
But just in case I own more condoms than T.L.C
Now the formula is this: me, Tip, and Ali
For those who can't count it goes 1-2-3
The anti batty boy, big up is who I be
Brothers find this hard to do but never me
Some brothers try to diss but Malik, you see 'em bitching
Me no care about them dibby MC, my shit is hitting
Trini gladiator, anti-hesitater
Shaheed push the fader from here to Grenada
Mr Energetic, who me sound pathetic?
When's the next time you'll hear a funky diabetic?
(I don't know man, I don't know man, I don't know man)
(I don't know, I don't know)
Oh my God, yes, oh my God (x8)
Complementary are we, the three for poetry
I got a humdinger coming hook line and sinker
The Timbo hoofs with the prints on the ground
Timbos on the toes, I like the way it's going down
Down like a lady of the evening
When it goes in Toots just believe it's in
Cause Queens is the county, Jamaica is the place
Take off your cleats cause you can't run the race
Oh my God, yes, oh my God (x8)
The title MC means Master of Ceremony
Some people who MC don't know what this term means
Writer: Kamaal Ibn John Fareed, Ali Shaheed Jones-Muhammad, Malik Izaak Taylor, Gene C. Redd, Robert Earl Bell, Ronald N. Bell, George Melvin Brown, Robert Spike Mickens, Claydes Eugene Smith, Woodrow Sparrow, Dennis Thomas, Richard A. Westfield
Copyright: Lyrics © TuneCore Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, O/B/O DistroKid, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © TuneCore Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, O/B/O DistroKid, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.