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Fugees: The Score Lyrics

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Artist: Fugees
Song title: The Score

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 a *beep* if your dead.

Raaaaah, raaaah

Let me attack just like the black cat

You in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.

Hooo, you've got to go for backup

To do what you gotta do.

So you'll be back with France CU

Traitor in your crew is mafo heat

Put the poison in your tea

and kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede

I'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo

Awoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what.

Competition, stimulation for the rap man

Losers check your tooters

While I'm suckin' on your girls h******.

Don't play macho, while you got the gun

Cause if you got to reload . . .


Wyclef the multi-talented

Average heads can't handle it

I'll bring it to you live

Only if you want it.

Me and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's

(C'mon check out my melody)

The W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef

Through any contest

I'm victorious

Still keep it real, if you will and manifest

Through your skills, not by how many shells you peel.


I'm a bring down the ruckus

Play the nutcracker

Rough-neck rednecks make me no bother

Time after time, ask Cyndi Lauper,

Boss, you don't want to f**k with my partners

Motion, commotion, what's your proposal

Uphold two-fold, the crew is disposal

Like utensil, false idental,

I autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil


I'm the L, Won't you pull it

Straight to the head

With the speed of a bullet

Cuttin' jokers off at the meeky-freeky gullet

Lyrical sedative, keep niggas medative

Head rushers I give to creative kids and fiends

Dreams of euphoria,


To another galaxy


Be this microphone, but get lifted

Lyrically I'm gifted

Burn on in without the roach clip (it)

Henders, mind-bender

Pleasure sender,

So frequently your nerve endings belong to me

Wrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke

Wack niggas choke

From the fumes that I emote,

Or emit s***

See even I feel the mahogany L

Natural hallucinogen

Turning boys to men again

With estrogen dreams

Release blues, yellows and greens

From Brownsville to Queens


I creep like a theif, no doubt the man's swift

I'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff

You stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff

(We know where to run)

And start flakin' like dandruff.

C'mon son my steelo's tight

Cause by far I'm the best producer on the mic

On the right, analytical conceptions

With precision and leave lyrical incisions.

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