[Chorus: Q-Tip]
Oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God
Oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God
Oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God
Oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God

[Verse 1: Q-Tip]
Listen up everybody, the bottom line
I'm a black intellect, but unrefined
With precision like a bullet, target bound
Just livin' like a hooker, the harlot sounds
Now when I say the harlot, you know I mean the hot
Heat in the equator, the brothers in the pot
Jalick, Jalick ya wind up ya hip
Draftin' of the poets, I'm the number 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, man, I got a Gringo
Yo, we got mics, when do we go?
Know a little n***a who can rhyme when you ask, B
Short, dark, and plus his voice is raspy

[Verse 2: Phife Dawg + Q-Tip]
One for the treble, two for the bass
You know my style Tip, now watch me rip this
I like my beats harder than two day old shit
Steady eatin' booty MC's 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 TLC
Now the formula is this: me, Tip, and Ali
For those who can't count it goes one, two, three
The anti ... big up, it's who I be
Brothas find it's hard to do, but never me
Some brothas try to diss Malik — you see 'em catchin' me?
Not care about them booty MC's, my shit be hittin'
Trini gladiator, anti-hesitator
Shaheed'll push the fader from here to Granada
Mister energetic—who me, sound pathetic?
When's the last time you heard 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, what, it go...
[Chorus: Q-Tip]
Oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God
Oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God
Oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God
Oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God ... oh my God

[Verse 3: Q-Tip + Phife Dawg]
Complimentary, are we, the thief of Poetry
I got a humdinger comin' hook, line and sinker
The Timbo hoofs with the prints underground
Timbo's on the toes, I love the way it's goin' down
Down like a lady of the evenin'
And when it goes in, honey, 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)
Yeah, this is how we do when we keep it on and on
Do what...
Got my man Big Mo with the streets and the freaks
My man Big Mo with the streets and the freaks
This is how we do when we keep it wild in the sheets
'Cause we got to do it like this, we aim to please
See ya next LP and next CD, and next cassette
Yo, we about to jet
We A Tribe Called Quest and we the Midnight Marauders
Tribe Called Quest and we the Midnight Marauders
See ya next time 'cause we the Midnight Marauders
A yo, we out 'cause we the Midnight Marauders
Go to the record store and get the shit
We work hard on it
We A Tribe Called Quest and we the Midnight Marauders
Queens got a zone, and Brooklyn got a zone
Like that