[Intro: Moc Fu]
Yo, check this out, brothers better just back off
'Cause we hitting hard for '91 'cause we the Fu-Schnickens
We got Kung, we got Poc, yo we got Chip
And I'm the ultimate Moc so let's do this
You know what I'm saying?

[Verse 1: Chip Fu]
Back off sonny and back off, let the breeze cool me off
MC Chip Fu comes to show and prove that Schnickens are not soft
'Cause I figured a way to flip styles
Son and I chat for a while and then smiled
Grab my pen and my pad and got mad
Then said to myself "Chip Fu - you'll get 'nough respects"
Flippin' these lyrical dialects without any defects
Thinkin' of a master plan to prove I'm a dan
And make you understand
Then you wonder "Damn, how could one man cram
All these lyrical styles together"
Which is singin', yappin' and chattin'
When I grip the microphone in front of the crowd
That's when it happens
That's why when an MC tries to diss me I just sigh
No matter what dem a-do or what dem a-try
Dem still can't decide, the perfectionist
The multi talented, verbal, ambidextrous one
With so many styles son, but this man is st-still one
Supreme being overseeing what's supposed to be seen
Self knows of self awareness, never have to redeem
My soul from the white man or the pipe, damn
'Cause when Chip Fu in a do place it's a bam bam
Yo I was thinkin' of lyrical styles when I was young
Now, I'm much older
Just like Bob Marley I'm a buffalo soldier
Not a dreadlock rasta but you know I gotta prove myself
'Cause there's many prestigious MCs on this roster
So to stop the noise and spread the joys I prefer to cool
So then I won't play the fool
And prove that I'm writing the Schnickens rule
So I twist and bend lyrical raggamuffin slangs and styles, friend
Part of my culture from the get-go
So yo I won't pretend to use this accent
To sound somewhat different from the rest
When I stress and caress the microphone
And prove that I'm the best
In other words me just a-come, in other words me just touch down
And me no want no idiot MC fe come test and run me dong
So back off
[Chorus: Sample]
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"

[Verse 2: Chip Fu]
Listen, now it's my turn
Check out my lyrical style and pattern Jack
Man inna pants and shirts and man uman a dress up in a frock so
All who never, all who never learn fe rhyme, learn fe rhyme
Just pick up the mic and talk yes and a session ago cork
Uno better get up, stand up and rock more
Whether you're alive or dead stock
That's the joint but it's not the point
That I'm trying to come off with
Back up from the mic man before you get frost
Because emceeing is essential
Writing rhymes is fundamental
Give me a place to be, BIC, chalk, stencil or number two pencil
I'll come off to prove that with a map or chat Jack is a must
And if a MC tries to test, he's gonna bite the dust
Dust, dust, him head top bust
And he will bite fidee dust
So follow me monsieur, follow me crew and listen to me
I ride [?] like a bronco
Yes and [?] like a pony
I'm Mr. Chip, the one who grips and spits
Up there hits, come catch a bit and I won't quit
I'm lyrically fit and equipped
So watch me drop it, back off
Why don't you get out of town by high noon
I'm not Arsenio and this doesn't make you go hmm
So I assume when an MC hears this tune they're gonna quit
Scatter like crumbs and little kibbles and bits and bits
So pass the mic, not left to right, but right to left
And just like Steven Seagal all MCs are gonna be marked for death
Surprised? I hope not
Don't think I'm a goody goody
So watch for the Don on stage
Dressed in jeans, Timberlands and hoody
And back off
[Chorus: Sample]
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"

"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"

[Interlude: Moc Fu]
Yo, check this out, yo
Brothers tryna test the Fu
Yo, Chip
Yo, homeboy, just back off
Yo, Chip I'm tellin' you—get busy, man

[Verse 3: Chip Fu]
Listen, if man-ne-me or enemy MC steps while this track drops
I'll get vexed and flex and pick up the mic just like a [?]
So run MCs, run, the owner fed up the mic, now come to me
Have lyrics in hand and [?] yes and then the thousand
'Cause I always flow calm and without no harm
But I snatch and squeeze the microphone like Mr [?]
Before I quote any note I clear my throat from all the phlegm
Then I murder them, murder them
Smoke and pull on the microphone just like some [?]
You better believe I kick up [?], I'm too cantankerous
Now my lyrics are [?] and strong
Like they were cooned with China brush
'Cause I don't use horse tonic to make any crowd panic
No stunts one hundred yes, to tan lang pon it
Which is what the microphone, I got it sewn 'cause I'm the boss
No drugs in my system, just Moby and Irish moss
'Course Outstanding by Rob Base, a no rhyme dat
And The Ghetto by Too $hort, a no rhyme dat
Bust a Move from Young MC, a no rhyme dat
Yes and Vanilla Ice is a idiot
So just give me room and let me past
Like Labor Day I play, my master
Prove that I'm a real man
And play MCs just like steel pan
Leave the mic alone, yes and retire for a while
And do not touch this, do not touch this
Please don't touch this style
Yes, back off
[Chorus: Sample]
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"

"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"
"Back off, sonny, and let me make my money"