[Verse 1: Q-Tip]
Back in the days when I was a teenager
Before I had status and before I had a pager
You could find the Abstract listenin' to hip-hop
My pops used to say, it reminded him of Bebop
I said, "Well, Daddy, don't you know that things go in cycles?
Way that Bobby Brown is just amping like Michael"
It's all expected, things are for the lookin'
If you got the money, Quest is for the bookin'
Come on everybody, let's get with the fly mode
Still got room on the truckload of black boom
Listen to the rhymes, then get a mental picture
Of this black man, and black woman fixture
Why do I say that? 'Cause I gotta speak the truth, man
Doin' what we feel for the music is the proof, and
Planted on the ground, the act is so together
Bona fide strong, you need leverage to sever
The unit, yes, the unit, yes, the unit called the jazz is
Delivering each year an LP filled with street goods
You can find it on your rack in your record store
If you get the record, say your thoughts are adored
And appreciated, 'cause we're ever so glad we made it
We work hard, so we gotta thank God
Dishin' out the plastic, do the dance till you're spastic
If you diss—it gets drastic
Listen to the rhyme, 'cause it's time to make gravy
If it moves your booty, then shake, shake it, baby
All the way to Africa, A.K.A. the Motherland
Stick out the left, then I'll ask for the other hand
That's the right hand, Black man
Only if you are noted as my man
If I get the credit, then I think I deserve it
If you fake moves, don't fix your mouth to word it
Get in the zone of positivity, not negativity
'Cause we gotta strive for longevity
If you botch up, what's in that [ass]
(What?) A pair of Nikes, size ten-and-a-half
[Chorus]
We gotta make moves (words)
Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (come on, come on)
We gotta make moves (words)
Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (come on, come on)
We gotta make moves
Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (come on, come on)
We gotta make moves
Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (come on, come on)

[Interlude: Sample]
"Time, time is a ship on a merciless sea
Drifting toward an abyss of nothingness
Until it can be recharted for its own destiny
Time is an inanimate object paying and paying and paying for no justification for belief
Time is dancing, boogalooing-away all memories of past—"

[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
We gotta be a winner all the time
Can't fall prey to a hip-hop crime
With the dope raps and dope tracks we move blocks
From the fly girlies to the hardest of the rocks
Musically the Quest, is on the rise
We on these excursions so you must realize
That continually, I pop my Zulu [shit]
If you don't like it, get off the Zulu tip
So what can you do in the times which exist
You can't fake moves on your brother or your sis
But if your sis is a [bitch], brother is a jerk
Leave 'em both alone and continue with your work
Whatever it may be in today's society
Everything is fair, least that's how it seems to me
You must be honest and true to the next
Don't be phony and expect one not to flex
Especially if you rhyme, you have to live by the pen
Your man is your man, then treat him like your friend
All it is, is the code of the streets
So listen to the knowledge being dropped over beats
Beats that are hard, beats that are funky
They could get you hooked like a crackhead junkie
What you gotta do is know the Tribe is in the sphere
The Abstract Poet, prominent like Shakespeare
(Or Edgar Allan Poe, or Langston Hughes, or...)
[Chorus]
We gotta make moves
Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (come on, come on)
We gotta make moves
Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (come on, come on)
We gotta make moves
Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (come on, come on)
We gotta make moves
Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (come on, come on)

[Outro: Sample + Q-Tip]
"—time is running out on black power advocates in the day and white thighed supporters at night
Every time you see them, they're chasin' some white woman with their tongue hangin' out
Time is running and passing, passing and running, running and passing, passing and running—"
Excursions