Yo, yo, what? I heard he sang a good song, yeah Yo, I heard he had a style And so, I came to see him and listen for awhile What? And there he was, this
Where I was born, nothing is promised My life is filled with less hope than the prophecies of Nostradamus Omega marks the ending of predictability, birth
Strumming my pain with his fingers Singing my life with his words Killing me softly with his song Killing me softly with his song Telling my whole life
toons on flat spoons, take no shorts like poon poon's See hoochies pop coochies, for Gucci's and Lucci Find me in my Mitsubishi, eatin' sushi, bumpin' Fugees
This is the Fugees, outsiders up in here Everyone wants to be a cowboy Grab your guns boy Forty-five by my side No the nigger dies Zen, zen, zen, zen
[WYCLEF] I woke up this morning I was feeling kind of high It was me, Jesus Christ and Haile Selassie Selassie said greetings in the name of the most
ask me for my license registration Where the fuck do I work? What the fuck is my occupation? Well, I'm an MC, I'm down with the Fugees Mother Mary caught
Ready or not, here I come, you can't hide Gonna find you and take it slowly Ready or not, here I come, you can't hide Gonna find you and make you want
Have you ever worn the mask, yeah One, two, one, two M to the A to the S to the K Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day Feds be hawkin
Look into the rhyme Rum to the ripple Sing boo But at times I come in triple Blaow, blaow put the heater to your head Now your dead Wyclef don't give
drink's my only remedy For pain of losing family, but while I'm gone Shorty, Everything's gonna be alright, everything's gonna be alright, Fugees come
How Many Mic's Do We Rip on the Daily Say me say Many Moni, Say me say manymanymany How Many Mic's Do We Rip on the Daily Say me say Many Moni, Say me
One, two, I'm 'bout to set this off, like this Hip-hoppers, check it Another MC lose his life tonight, Lord I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why?
Refugee camp with Cypress Hill (Yo, bringin' it on) Cubans meet the Haitians Perfect combination, check it You say guns I say pistolas Well, if you got
(Lauryn Hill) Yeah, we got Fugees up in here, haha! (Wyclef) Refugee camp y'all (Lauryn Hill) Funkmaster Flex up in here! (Wyclef) One two,
Mama just killed a man, put a gun against his head, Pulled my trigger, now he's dead. Mama, life had just begun, But now I've gone and thrown it all away
The year Two thousand and seventeen, master The man Every two thousand years a prophecy is prophesized The mission To carry out the word of the shephard
Yo, Mona Lisa, could I get a date on Friday? And if you're busy, I wouldn't mind takin' Saturday, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay Round up de posse, Fugee comin' around
