Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye (3x) Ring the alarm, I don't wanna stay calm cause I'm about to rip this psalm When the mic is gripped my lyrics do split up like Bombs from Vietnam Cause I'm sweet, neat, I don't romp or skinteet Lyrics I lick with my tongue And rhymes I nymn with my teeth This lyrical prophet you can't stop this from the West Indies You can tell I'm a lyrical prophet from the words spoken and broken up In these books and scrolls that I unfold The knowledge I use does make me bold The intelligence in my system Converts itself and becomes wisdom Born in Trinidad, not Tobogo, land of steel pan and calypso Cyop is a buck and a buck is a cyop That's the real true thing and a natural fact This lyrical man you can't hold me back From the red, the white, and also the black Island, which is my land, my place of birth You can tell by the tongue that's swung And the lyrical structure in me verse So all MC's don't cross this border Cause by now you should know sort of Lyrically wise but now I despise All youth that's out of order Don't try to test any of the Schnikens Cause I'm not done with the lyrical boxin' The beatin' and the lickin' Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye (3x) You two-facety, you can't face me And my rhymes you'll bite and learn Soon you'll acknowledge my lyrical substance just like a bookworm Chip FU, then you will extend and show all the youth them That me big boutcha under roots and culture And the bad bull in the pen Because when I grip the mic (yes, man) All MC's they do stop yes and hush Any mic I touch, any mic I brush, any mic I clutch With these lyrical styles of such And if I do unleash a lyrical masterpiece Lyrics never cease, then a piece I'll unleash and make it brief Please don't bite yes or thief C-H-I-P FU is my name, it will stay just the same Give me any mic on stage in a rage I'll engage And drop rhymes just the same Quote for quote, note for note, did you comphrehend So jack it up and pull it up operator Wheel and come again Cause MC's try these rastafarianic raps and sound like wanna-be's But a wanna-be's not what I want to be See the FU-Schnickens have to be The true prophets free Free to preach FU-Schnick prophecies We thee untouchable, matchable, stoppable MC's for unity Me, a rastafarian, no not me but I do stun I'm not faking Jamacian, so all MC's you better run Because Mr. Chip FU man a come And me sitdong pon de riddim sitdong pion de vibes A de hartical don True me full up a style and me wicked and wild With peer pattern watch how me chat it in a verb And capsize it in a noun Uno better give I and I respect When this Trinidadian I come Sing out Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye (3x) Phenomenon one, phenomenon two, phenomenon three Come follow me POC FU's the rough-neck chicken and I'm the wild Apache See I'm the C the H the I the P Down with the P the O the C, the K the U the N the G The M the O, yes and the C And when the M the I the C is in my H the A-N-D I preach and teach and educate all ghetto youth about unity But wait, let me get set not to sweat But to get something straight All MC's come out with good styles And all of them do sound great But ring the alarm and don't stay calm Because I won't procrastinate These lyrical styles that I compile To preach and teach and educate me A new jack brother (who's that) When you were at the parties rapping and scratching I did a chat On tape, on tape and cassette, you'll hear me live and direct Yes and who never hear me yet when you hear my voice it's perfect So just pack up because your lyrics are weak when you speak Don't step so just back up, wake up, take off the make-up The mic because I'll break up MC's limbs from limb, slim me trim You see me, I don't follow no style and I don't follow no pattern So take head to this lesson I bring or the lesson I brought Which was taught to one and another All slack MC's better ring the alarm In other words, run for cover
Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye (3x) Ring the alarm, I don't wanna stay calm cause I'm about to rip this psalm When the mic is gripped my lyrics do split up like Bombs from Vietnam Cause I'm sweet, neat, I don't romp or skinteet Lyrics I lick with my tongue And rhymes I nymn with my teeth This lyrical prophet you can't stop this from the West Indies You can tell I'm a lyrical prophet from the words spoken and broken up In these books and scrolls that I unfold The knowledge I use does make me bold The intelligence in my system Converts itself and becomes wisdom Born in Trinidad, not Tobogo, land of steel pan and calypso Cyop is a buck and a buck is a cyop That's the real true thing and a natural fact This lyrical man you can't hold me back From the red, the white, and also the black Island, which is my land, my place of birth You can tell by the tongue that's swung And the lyrical structure in me verse So all MC's don't cross this border Cause by now you should know sort of Lyrically wise but now I despise All youth that's out of order Don't try to test any of the Schnikens Cause I'm not done with the lyrical boxin' The beatin' and the lickin' Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye (3x) You two-facety, you can't face me And my rhymes you'll bite and learn Soon you'll acknowledge my lyrical substance just like a bookworm Chip FU, then you will extend and show all the youth them That me big boutcha under roots and culture And the bad bull in the pen Because when I grip the mic (yes, man) All MC's they do stop yes and hush Any mic I touch, any mic I brush, any mic I clutch With these lyrical styles of such And if I do unleash a lyrical masterpiece Lyrics never cease, then a piece I'll unleash and make it brief Please don't bite yes or thief C-H-I-P FU is my name, it will stay just the same Give me any mic on stage in a rage I'll engage And drop rhymes just the same Quote for quote, note for note, did you comphrehend So jack it up and pull it up operator Wheel and come again Cause MC's try these rastafarianic raps and sound like wanna-be's But a wanna-be's not what I want to be See the FU-Schnickens have to be The true prophets free Free to preach FU-Schnick prophecies We thee untouchable, matchable, stoppable MC's for unity Me, a rastafarian, no not me but I do stun I'm not faking Jamacian, so all MC's you better run Because Mr. Chip FU man a come And me sitdong pon de riddim sitdong pion de vibes A de hartical don True me full up a style and me wicked and wild With peer pattern watch how me chat it in a verb And capsize it in a noun Uno better give I and I respect When this Trinidadian I come Sing out Ring the alarm, another sound is dying, whoa, aye (3x) Phenomenon one, phenomenon two, phenomenon three Come follow me POC FU's the rough-neck chicken and I'm the wild Apache See I'm the C the H the I the P Down with the P the O the C, the K the U the N the G The M the O, yes and the C And when the M the I the C is in my H the A-N-D I preach and teach and educate all ghetto youth about unity But wait, let me get set not to sweat But to get something straight All MC's come out with good styles And all of them do sound great But ring the alarm and don't stay calm Because I won't procrastinate These lyrical styles that I compile To preach and teach and educate me A new jack brother (who's that) When you were at the parties rapping and scratching I did a chat On tape, on tape and cassette, you'll hear me live and direct Yes and who never hear me yet when you hear my voice it's perfect So just pack up because your lyrics are weak when you speak Don't step so just back up, wake up, take off the make-up The mic because I'll break up MC's limbs from limb, slim me trim You see me, I don't follow no style and I don't follow no pattern So take head to this lesson I bring or the lesson I brought Which was taught to one and another All slack MC's better ring the alarm In other words, run for cover
