Where Fugees At?

(Uh huh, uh huh)
Feels good to be back at the essence where it all started, you know?
(Uh huh, uh huh)
What up Salaam?
(Uh huh, uh huh)
Turn up my headphones man
(Uh huh, uh huh)
I got a few things I wanna tell the people out there
(Yo, yo, yo)

All I hear is "Fugee this, Fugee that
Where Fugee At? I need Fugees to spit up on this track"
Lauryn if you're listenin', Pras if you're listenin'
Gimme a call, I'm in the lab, in the Booga Basement
Y'all know my style, I'm still mini, money, mini, mini,
It ain't all about the money

When I whistle-ah, two dogs by my side, plus a black pistol-ah
Loud MCs, feel the silencer
Y'all still rhymin'? Y'all cuckoo, I send psychos to Bellevue
This ain't a sequel son, but I have you "Scream 2" (AHHH!)
Real live cinema of the streets produced a junkie
Put back on your shirt, man, you lookin like E.T.
You're cracked out, for dough, some blow on saxophone
You're rhymin' off beat even with help from my metronomes
See? Y'all aint MCs, you a CM
Common Motherfucker rhymin' about Lexus and Benz
The same Benz you got jacked in, drunk off of gin
You woke up in hell gettin' sexed by Marilyn Manson
You lie? You deny? Pass me the microphone
I guess like Eddie Murphy, you was givin 'em a ride home
Yeah right, 25 mics, material in The Source
While your rap crew's on steroids lookin' like Full Force
Your girl, she's buffed, puffed, in daytime, don't play rough
The freaks come out at night, so that's when I bring out the cuffs
Grand Marnier, CD player number two
Sade's in my bedroom singin' "Sweetest Taboo"

All I hear is "Fugee this, Fugee that
Where Fugee At? I need Fugees to spit up on this track"
Lauryn if you're listenin', Pras if you're listenin'
Gimme a call, I'm in the lab, in the Booga Basement
Y'all know my style, I'm still mini, money, mini, mini,
It ain't all about the money

We used to rap, now y'all wanna come and get me with a bat?
Y'all must be smokin crack, with Pookie from New Jack
How could y'all forget? I'm the reason y'all MCs
But y'all flip like Pharisees and charge me for blasphemy
You know who you are, eight bar superstar
Karate cars, buy up the bars with the credit cards
You wanna impress some young chick you just met?
First thing she say, "Ain't you used to roll with Wyclef?"
Look surprised to see your flesh outside your vest?
Yeah, you could fight, in the WWF
'Cause in this arena ain't nothin but gladiators and haters
Hoping they kill me and roll and feed me to the tigers
Oh Lord, protect me from the devil
They open the book of life, y'all readin' like the anti-Christ
You're weak kid, stop lyin' to the public
You wanted it so bad that you took all the production credits
Some MCs in the underground
Mad at me 'cause I'm above ground, counting English pounds
I tell y'all what, success don't come overnight
I was in Noah's Ark for Forty days and Forty nights
Contemplating, "What should I write? What should I recite?
'Cause ain't nobody here but thugs and chicks with ice"
That's when I daydream into the twilight
Girls with they man, screaming "I hate life"
Baby girl, look in the opposite direction
'Cause my class is the "Misedu-"

All I hear is "Fugee this, Fugee that
Where Fugee At? I need Fugees to spit up on this track"
Lauryn if you're listenin', Pras if you're listenin'
Gimme a call, I'm in the lab, in the Booga Basement
Y'all know my style, I'm still mini, money, mini, mini,
It ain't all about the money