Back & Forth - Cameo

We got the jazz, we got the jazz

We got the jazz, we got the jazz

We got the jazz, we got the jazz

We got the jazz, we got the jazz

Stern firm and young with a laid-back tongue

The aim is to succeed and achieve at 21

Just like Ringling Brothers, I’ll daze and astound

Captivate the mass, cause the prose was profound

Do it for the strong, we do it for the meek

Boom it in your boom it in your boom it in your Jeep

Or your Honda, or your Bimmer, or your Legend, or your Benz

The rave of the town to your foes and your friends

So push it, along, trails, we blaze

Don’t deserve the gong, don’t deserve the praise

The tranquility will make you unball your fist

For we put Hip Hop on a brand new twist

A brand new twist with a whole heap of mystic

So low-key that you probably missed it

And yet it’s so loud that it stands in the crowd

When the guy takes the beat, they bowed

So raise up squire, adjust your attire

We have no time to wallow in the mire

If you’re on a foreign path, then let me do the lead

Join in the essence of the cool-out breed

Then cool out to the music cause it makes you feel serene

With the birds and the bees and all those groovy things

Like getting stomach aches when you gotta go to work

Or staring into space when you’re feeling berserk

I don’t really mind if it’s over your head

Cause the job of resurrectors is to wake up the dead

So pay attention, it’s not hard to decipher

And after the horns, you can check out the Phifer

We got the jazz, we got the jazz

We got the jazz, we got the jazz

We got the jazz, we got the jazz

We got the jazz, we got the jazz

Competition dem try fe come side way

But competition they must come straight way

Competition dem try fe come side way

But competition they must come straight way

How’s about that, it seems like it’s my turn again

All through the years my mic has been my best friend

I know some brothers wonder, can Phife really kick it?

Some even wanna diss me, but why sweat it?

I’m all into my music cos it’s how I make papes

Try to make hits, like Kid Capri makes tapes

Me sweat another?

I do my own thing

Strictly hardcore tracks, not a new jack swing

I grew up as a Christian so to Jah I give thanks

Collect my banks, listen to Shabba Ranks

I sing, and chat, I do all of that

It’s 1991 and I refuse to come wack

I take off my hat to other crews that tend to rock

But the Low End Theory’s here, it’s time to wreck shop

I got Tip and Shah, so whom shall I fear

Stop look and listen, but please don’t stare

So jet to the store, and buy the LP

On Jive/RCA, cassettes and CD’s

Produced and arranged by the four-man crew

And oh shit, Skeff Anselm, he gets props too

Make sure you have a system with some fat house speakers

So the new shit can rock, from Bronx to Massapequa

Cause where I come from quality is job one

And everybody up on Linden know we get the job done

So peace to that crew, and peace to this crew

Bring on the tour, we’ll see you at a theatre nearest you

Hey yo but wait, back it up, hup, easy back it up

Please let the Abstract embellish on the cut

Back and forth just like a Cameo song

If you dig this joint then please come dance along

To the music cause it’s done just for the rhyme

Now I gotta scat and get mine, underline

The jazz, the what?

The jazz can move that ass

Cause the Tribe originates that feeling of pizazz

It’s the universal sound, bless the brothers on the ground

And the ones six below, you didn’t have to go

Some say that I’m eccentric cause I once had an orgy

And sometimes for breakfast I eat grits and porgies

If this is a stinker, then call me a skunk, I ask

(«What's, wrong?») Now check it out

All my peoples in Queens ya don’t stop

Now all my peoples in Brooklyn ya don’t stop

And all my peoples uptown ya don’t stop

That includes the Bronx and Harlem ya don’t stop

Now to that girl Ramelle ya don’t stop

I said because Ladies First ya don’t stop

And to the JB’s, ya don’t stop

And De La Soul, ya don’t stop

To my Brand Nubians ya don’t stop

And to my Leaders of the New ya don’t stop

To my man Large Professor ya don’t stop

Pete Rock for the beat ya don’t stop

Everybody in the place ya don’t stop

You keep it on, to the rhythm, ya don’t stop

And last but not least on the sure shot

It’s the Zulu nation