The Score Album

Artist(s): Fugees (Refugee Camp)

Cover Art

Fugees (Refugee Camp) The Score Cover Art

Tracklist

Red Intro

length: 1:52
guest performer: Ras Baraka and Red Alert
writer: Ras Baraka, Red Alert

Yo, this fucker I was wit the other day, I was chillin’
With scott and the minute that we got in front of our
Crib with a shotgun. cause jokers gonna be bustin’ up
In there trying to get food, clothing, shelter, tv’s, forks,
Radios or whatever they can get there hands on. shit
Is getting mad ill out here man. joker’s running out here
Like with masks on; I was with my man pee, he think
He like charlie chan or robert de niro
Or bruce lee or some shit, jumping from behind trees on
Muhfuckas, like cowboys bang bang or whatever you
Know. trying to shoot a joker he had beef with, he wound
Up shootin my man up in the street, tyring to be cowboys
They can’t even shoot, trying to be gangsta’s but when the
Beast come on the muthafuckin’ block everybody break out.
They beat my man bob g. up the other day, cops, pigs vampin’
On him, everybody just standin’ around just watching that
Shit take place. cause they only gangsta’s when it comes to
Being gangsta’s to themselves. they want to be corleone, luigi,
Or gambino or gotti or whatever the fuck. they run around callin’
Themselves rahiem or fuquan or mustapha cause we think they
Got power, but fuck them, I got power. I got power, I got family,
I got family business on avon, on chancellor, on prince street
On chadwick, on stratford on chancellor on vailsburg. all of the
Brick city. that’s my family, we gonna settle the score, once
And for all. I’m not lettin’ nobody I’m going out like
A bandit. and all of these zealots trying to steal and trying to
Bite what I got like all of these big record companies, these
Corporations these stores they try to rob me. naw man, I’m going,
I’m a get mine. me and my girl we gonna go out together
We gonna be a soldier kid. when I go out, she go out. and we
Gonna make what we believe manifest cause if you ain’t ready
Now, you ain’t never gonna be ready . . .
I’m always ready.

How Many Mics

length: 4:29
producer: Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean and Shawn King
lead vocals: Pras Michel, Wyclef Jean and Lauryn Hill
mixer: Wyclef Jean and Warren Riker
engineer: Warren Riker
recording engineer: Wyclef Jean and Warren Riker
co-producer: Jerry Duplessis and Pras Michel
composer: Wyclef Jean, Lauryn Hill, Pras Michel
Pick Up Your Microphones
Pick Up Your Microphones

[Chorus: x2]
How Many Mic's Do We Rip on the Daily
Say me say Many Moni, Say me say many, many, many

I get mad frustrated when I rhyme
Thinking of all the kids who try to do this
For all the wrong reasons
Seasons change, mad things rearrange
But it all stays the same like the love Doctor Strange
I'm tame like the rapper,
Get red like a snapper when they do that
Got your whole block saying "TRUE DAT"
If only they knew that,
It was you who was irregular,
Sold your soul for some secular
Muzak that's wack,
Plus you use that loop over and over
Claiming that you got a new style
Your attempts are futile, oh Chile
Your puerile,
Brain waves are sterile
You can't create, you just wait to take, my tape's
Laced with malice
Hands get calloused
From grippin' microphones from here to Dallas
Go ask Alice if you don't believe me,
I get Inner Visions like Stevie
See me, ascend from the chalice like the weed be
Indeed be like Khalil Muhammad
MC's make me vomit
I get controversial
Freak your style with no rehearsal
Oh, contraire mon frere
Don't you even go there
Me without a mic is like a beat without a snare
I dare to tear into your ego,
We go, way back like some ganja and pelequo
Or Coleco, Vision
My mind makes incisions in your anatomy
And I'll back this with Deuteronomy
Or Leviticus, God made this word
You can't get with this
Sweet like licorice,
Dangerous like syphillis, yeah.

[Chorus: x4]

I used to be underrated
Now I take iron, makes my s constipated
I'm more concentrated.
So on my day off,
With David Sonnenberg I play golf
Run through Crown Heights screaming out Mazel Tov
Problem with no man
Before black, I'm first human
Appetite to write like Frederick Douglass with a slave hand
Street pressure word to poppa, I ain't goin' under
One day I'll have a label and make deals with Tommy Motolla
Momma always told me "You're one in a million"
Always watch your back, never tangle with Haitian Sicilians
Now I got a record deal, "How does it feel?"
I'm never gonna survive unless I get crazy like Seal.
Cause the whole world's out of order
So at night the fiend's dance on Grease with John Travolta
One got slaughtered as he coughed blood from his mouth
The other tried to duck and caught a left with my Guinness Stout
Brother brother can't you get this through your head
It's a set up by the fed's they're scoping us with their Infra - reds.

[Chorus: x3]

Too many MC's not enough Mic's
Exit your show like I exit the turnpike
Dice and dynamite like Dolomite
Double deuce delight, I don't **** Van Dyke
Startlight to starbrite the freaks come out at night
Like my man Wyclef (I wear my sunglasses at night)
And my panache will mosh your entourage
Squash your squad and hide your body under my garage.
And when the cops come lookin'
I'll be bookin' to Brooklyn
Leave the trails broken flippin' tokens to Hoboken
A clean getaway like Alec Baldwin
Drivin' in my fast car playin' Tracy Chapman

[Chorus: x4]

Ready or Not

length: 3:47
producer: Lauryn Hill and Wyclef Jean
lead vocals: Wyclef Jean, Lauryn Hill and Pras Michel
performer: Fugees
mixer: Bassy Bob Brockmann
engineer: Warren Riker
recording engineer: Wyclef Jean and Warren Riker
co-producer: Pras Michel and Jerry Duplessis
writer: Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel, Lauryn Hill, Thom Bell, William Hart
[Chorus]
Ready or not, here I come, you can't hide
Gonna find you and take it slowly
Ready or not, here I come, you can't hide
Gonna find you and make you want me

Now that I escape, sleepwalker awake
Those who could relate know the world ain't cake
Jail bars ain't golden gates
Those who fake, they break
When they meet their 400-pound mate
If I could rule the world
Everyone would have a gun in the ghetto of course
When giddyuping on their horse
I kick a rhyme drinking moonshine
I pour a sip on the concrete, for the deceased
But no don't weep, Wyclef's in a state of sleep
Thinking bout the robbery that I did last week
Money in the bag, banker looked like a drag
I want to play with pelicans from here to Baghdad
Gun blast, think fast, I think I'm hit
My girl pinched my hips to see if I still exist
I think not, I'll send a letter to my friends
A Born Again hooligan only to be king again

[Chorus]

I play my enemies like a game of chess, where I rest
No stress, if you don't smoke sess, lest
I must confess, my destiny's manifest
In some Goretex and sweats I make treks like I'm homeless
Rap orgies with Porgy and Bess
Capture your bounty like Elliot Ness, yes
Bless you if you represent the Fu
But I'll hex you with some witch's brew
If you're doo-doo, voodoo
I can do what you do, easy, believe me
Fronting *****s give me hee-bee-gee-bees
So while you're imitating Al Capone, I'll be Nina Simone
And defecating on your microphone

Ready or not, here I come, you can't hide
Gonna find you and take it slowly

You can't run away
From these styles I got, oh baby, hey baby
Cause I got a lot, oh yeah
And anywhere you go
My whole crew's gonna know baby, hey baby
You can't hide from the block, oh no

Ready or not, refugees taking over
The Buffalo Soldier, dreadlock Rasta
On the twelfth hour, fly by in my bomber
Crews run for cover, now they're under pushing up flowers
Superfly true lies, do or die
Toss me high ? only puff la
With my crew from lock high
I refugee from Guantanamo Bay
Dance around the border like I'm Cassius Clay

Zealots

length: 4:21
producer: Wyclef Jean and Lauryn Hill
lead vocals: Pras Michel, Lauryn Hill and Wyclef Jean
mixer: Wyclef Jean and Warren Riker
engineer: Warren Riker
recording engineer: Warren Riker and Wyclef Jean
co-producer: Jerry Duplessis and Pras Michel
composer: Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel
Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
Oh lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa

I haunt MC's like Mephistopheles
Bringing swords and Damacles
Secret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy
Abstract raps simple with a street format
Gaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax.
Check out the retrograde motion, kill the notion
Of biting and recycling and calling it your own creation.
I Feel like Rockwell, "Somebody's watching me"
I got no privacy whether on land or at sea.
And for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonic
Hypocrite, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit.
It hurts don't it, the refugees come to your turf and take over
The earth.

See my rhymes are the type of fly rhymes
That can only get down with my crew
And if you try to take lines or bite rhymes
We'll show you how the refugees do.

Behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymes
Two MC's can't occupy the same space at the same time.
It's against the laws of Physics.
So weep as your sweet dreams break up like Eurythmics
Rap rejects my tape deck, ejects projectile
Whether jew or gentile
I rank top percentile,
Many styles,
More powerful than gamma rays
My grammar pays,
Like Carlos Santana plays
Black Magic Woman
So while you fuming, I'm consuming
Mango juice under Polaris,
You're just embarrassed
Cause it's your "Last Tango in Paris"
And even after all my logic and my theory,
I add a ************ so you ignint *****s hear me.
And you remember take notes,
As I sow my rap otas
And for you biting zealots, here's a quote.

[Chorus]
Another MC lose his life tonight, lord
I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why
O lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa

You can try but you can't divide the tri
These cats can't rap, Mr. Author I feel no Vibe
The magazine says the girl should have went solo,
The guys should stop rapping, vanish like Menudo.
Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his part
As long as someone was listening, I knew it was a start,
For me to get a chance, grab my pen and revamp
Do a cameo while everybody do the dance.
Quick now, cause you runnin' out of lucka
Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucker.
While you munching at your luncheon, I'll be planning your ***assination
Then hit you like the Dutchmen

I compress sound sets with my rap DBX
Then drop vocals on my 456 ampex
Bring terror to the shop of horror,
As she cries "Mi amor"
The phantom dies in the opera
And to the youngin's who carry gadgets
And kill 6 days a week then rest on the Sabbath.
Violence ain't necessary, unless you provoke me
Then get buried like the great Mussolini
And for you bitin' Zealots
Your rap styles are relics
No matter who you damage
You're still a false prophet.

[Chorus]

The Beast

length: 5:38
producer: Wyclef Jean and Lauryn Hill
lead vocals: Pras Michel, Lauryn Hill and Wyclef Jean
mixer: Bassy Bob Brockmann
engineer: Warren Riker
recording engineer: Warren Riker and Wyclef Jean
co-producer: Pras Michel and Jerry Duplessis
turntable: The Vibe Chemist Backspin
composer: Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel
[Chorus]
Warn the town the beast is loose,
Word 'em up y'all
C'mon

[Lauryn Hill]
Conflicts with night sticks
Illegal sales districts,
Hand-picked lunatics, keep poli-TRICK-cians rich
Heretics push narcotics amidst its risks and frisks,
Cool cliques throw bricks but seldom hit targets
Private-DIC sell hits, like porno-flicks do chicks.
The 666 cut W.I.C. like Newt Gingrich sucks ****

[Wyclef]
Meanwhile the government brings Star Wars from glocks to glockers
C.O.P. has an APB out on Chewbacca
Mista Mayor, can I say something in yo honor
Yesterday in Central Park they got the Jogger
Okay, okay.
Let's get the confusion straight in ghetto Gotham
The man behind the mask you thought was Batman is Bill Clinton.
Who soon retire, the roof is on fire
Connie Chung brung the bomb as it comes from Oklahoma
Things are getting serious, Kuumbaya,
On a mountain Satan offered me, Manhattan help me Jah Jah

[Wyclef]
You can't search me without probable cause
Or that proper ammunition they call reasonable suspicion
Listen I bring friction to your whole jurisdiction
You planted seeds in my seat when I wasn't looking.
Now you ask me for my license/registration
"Where the ****" do i work
"What the ****" is my occupation
Well I'm an MC, I'm down with the Fugees
Mother Mary caught a flashback like Rodney now the cops got Lolly.

[Lauryn Hill]
The subconscious psychology that you use against me,
If I lose control will send me to the penitentiary
Such as Alcatraz, or shot up like al Hajj Malik Shabazz
High class get bypassed while my *** gets harassed.
And the fuzz treat bruh's like they manhood never was,
And if you too powerful, you get bugged like Peter Tosh and Marley
was.
And my word does nothing against the feds,
So my eyes stay red as I chase crazy bald heads, WORD UP.

[Chorus]

[Wyclef]
The chase is on I feel like the bad guy
Fifth gear 125 like New Jersey drive
Looked in my rear view mirror
Police was getting closer
Heard a roar in the sky,
Looked up and saw the Blue Thunder.
My inner conscious says throw your handkerchief and surrender,
But to who?
The star spangled banner ooh.
Say can't you see cops more crooked than we
By the dawn's early night robbin' *****s for kis.
Easy low key crooked military
Pay taxes out my *** but they still harass me.

[Praz]
The streets of corruption got me busting and cussin' in the concrete jungle
Thoughts being dribbled like that tall kid Mutumbo
Handled by Hannibal
Soon I'm gonna be a fugitive like Dr. Kimble.

[Wyclef]
Hey yo should I slow down?

[Praz]
Nah kid go faster,
Just cause they got a badge, they could still be impostors.
Probable cause, got flaws like dirty draws
Meet me at the corner store so we can start the street wars.

[Chorus]

Fu‐Gee‐La

length: 4:21
producer: Salaam Remi
lead vocals: Wyclef Jean, Lauryn Hill and Pras Michel
performer: Fugees
engineer: Gary Noble
composer: Salaam Remi, Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel
We used to be number 10
Now we're permanent one,
In the battle lost my finger, Mic became my arm
Pistol nozzle hits your nasal, blood becomes lukewarm
Tell the woman be easy Naah squeeze the Charmin
Test Wyclef, see death flesh get scorned.
Beat you so bad make you feel like you ain't wanna be born
And tell your friends stay the hell out of my lawn.
Chicken George became Dead George stealin' chickens from my farm.
Damn, Another dead pigeon
If your mafiosos then I'm bringin' on Haitian Sicilians
Nobody's shootin', my body's made of hand grenade
Girl bled to death while she was tongue-kissing a razor blade.
That sounds sick maybe one eday I'll write a horror
Blackula comes to the ghetto, jacks an ACURA
Stevie Wonder sees Crack Babies Be-Coming Enemies of their own families.
What's going on?
Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of Babylon, trying to front like he's down with
Mount Zion.

Oooh La La La,
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Oooh La La La,
It's the natural LA that the Refugees Bring
Oooh La La La La La La Lalala La Laaah,
Sweeeeet Thing

Yeah in saloons we drink Boone's and battle goons till high noon,
Bust rap toons on flat spoons, take no shorts like poon poon's.
See hoochies pop coochies, for Gucci's and Lucci
Find me in my Mitsubishi, eatin' sushi, bumpin' Fugees.
Hey Hey Hey
Try to take the crew and we don't play play
Say say say
Like Paul McCartney, not hardly,
ODD-ly enough
I can see right through your bluff
*****s huff and they puff but they can't handle us, WE BUST
Cause we fortified, I could never hide, seen "Cooley High",
Cried when Cochise died.
I'm twisted, black-listed by some other negroes,
Don't remove my Polos on the first episode.
Ha Ha Ha Ha, You shouldn't diss refugees, and
Ha Ha Ha Ha, You whole sound set's bootie , and
Ha Ha Ha Ha, You have to respect JERSEY, cause I'm superfly when
I'm super-high on the Fu-Gee-La.

Oooh La La La,
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Oooh La La La,
It's the natural LA that the Refugees Bring
Oooh La La La La La La Lalala La Laaah,
Sweeeeet Thing

I sit 90 degrees underneath palm trees,
Smokin' beadies as I burn my calories,
Brooklyn roof tops become Brooklyn tee-pees,
Who that be, enemies, wanna see the death of me.
From Hawaii to Hawthorne, I run marathons, like
Buju Banton, I'm a true champion, like,
Farakkhan reads his Daily Qu'ran it's a phenomenon,
lyrics fast like Ramadan.

What's goin' on
Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of Babylon, trying to front like he's down with
Mount Zion.
What's goin' on
Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of Babylon, trying to front like he's down with
Mount Zion.

Oooh La La La,
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Oooh La La La,
It's the natural LA that the Refugees Bring
Oooh La La La La La La Lalala La Laaah, Sweeeeet Thing
Oooh La La La,
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Oooh La La La,
It's the natural LA that the Refugees Bring
Oooh La La La La La La Lalala La Laaah, Sweeeeet Thing

Family Business

length: 5:44
producer: Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean and John Forté
guest performer: John Forté
guest lead vocals: John Forté
lead vocals: Lauryn Hill and Wyclef Jean
mixer: Warren Riker and Wyclef Jean
engineer: Warren Riker
recording engineer: Warren Riker and Wyclef Jean
guitar: Wyclef Jean
co-producer: Pras Michel and Jerry Duplessis
composer: Lauryn Hill, John Forté, Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel
[Omega]
Where I was born, nothing is promised
My life is filled with less hope than the prophecies of Nostradamus
Omega marks the ending of predictability, birth of agility
Who will it be to test me and expose their futility.
Iron like a lion from Zion stop tryin' so hard,
I think I smell your brain cells fryin'.
The family's behind you if you're worthy
Philosophies developed deep in the back streets of dirty Jersey
Troops with scully hats and Timberland boots
No more break-dancing for loot.
*****s hustle and shoot
In the Garden State, it grows stink weeds and criminals
Government funds are minimal
Oppression's subliminal

[Wyclef]
These days its hard for we to find peace of mind
Between insanity and sanity there lies a thin line.
Some dwell in hotels with Jezebels
A stone age and fall a victim to the Plague
Unclean bad dreams of Wyclef being a fiend,
One last kiss from my sweet serpentine
Eliminate then break,
Navigate to rejuvenate thoughts of suicide with my nickel plate.
Reconciliation came from my enemy-friend
Who said family don't bend
We stay silent till the end.
Now who would think that your best friend
Would be your worst enemy and your enemy your best friend.
Stare into the air inspiration from the atmosphere
I think of old ghosts, that ain't even here.
Like Alex Haley take notes on this Biography
My family tree consists of street refugees.
A ghetto land, where we talk slang
Stolen cars bang, like my chitty bang-bang sh-bang
For the heads, we ain't sellin' cocaine today
So refrain and let my family reign okay

[Chorus: Omega]
Just walkin' the streets death can take you away
It's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day
At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play
So defend the family that's the code to obey

[Wyclef]
But if I fall asleep and death takes me away
Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay
At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play
So the family sticks together and we never betray

[Wyclef]
Nah **** that
Fifty-two pick up, no cops around
Fifty-two thousand in cash, I don't want no savings bonds
Have the money ready, I smell something fishy
Your wife's in my custody
One false move and you'll find her body in the sea.
That's the voice of the kid, that's the kidnapper
I do my work and then I catch my ticket to Jamaica.
Meet me in the alley, make sure you bring the money
This ain't the seventies I'm far from a jive turkey

[Lauryn Hill]
My circle it can't be broken
Open, cut-throatin', provokin'
Record promotin, tokens chokin' on they words like smoke and.
Cause we soft spoken, doesn't mean that we've forgotten
Your bootie smells rotten and one day you will be gotten
See joker's is scatter-brained, their focus is unrestrained
My army is trained, you never find us beefin' in vain.
Cause I've seen fire and I've seen rain
You claim fame, while modest *****s remain.
I can judge a character like Ito judge a verdict
And if you bringin' threats I give you sex if I ain't heard it.
See poppin' ****'s about your attitude and how you word it
I've seen the biggest *****s on the block get murdered
And they deserverd it
Or so the beast said when they served it ?
That **** is nervous
So what's my purpose?
Family, we must preserve it.
Your number's retired
I hope you like the hell fires
You'll be screamin' Murder she Wrote like Chaka Demus and Pliars.

[Chorus]

[Lauryn Hill]
If I should fall asleep and death takes me away
Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay
At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play
So the family stick together and we never betray.

[Forte]
We used to jump rope,
But now we gun hope
Bustin' shots off of project roof tops
Sending signals with the blunt smoke.
Ock, don't talk a lot if you can't hold it in lock
If you think lips sink ships,
Imagine full glock clips.
I hold a glass of Remy Martin
Gettin' milks by the carton
Extortin' the light weights for thinkin' they important
The night pays and heavenly ways
Ain't nothin' free ah
Knowledge of your family and steppin' to your B.I.
You see I, stay on top of **** like a fly
My *****s reach when they got beef
Then jet down to South Beach
Yo mouthpiece is yappin'
I hear it in your rap and
My family is thick so that bullshit could never happen.

[Chorus]

[Lauryn Hill]
If I should fall asleep and death takes me away
Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay
At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play
So the family stick together and we never betray.

Killing Me Softly

length: 4:53
producer: Lauryn Hill and Wyclef Jean
lead vocals: Wyclef Jean
performer: Fugees
mixer: Warren Riker and Wyclef Jean
engineer: Warren Riker
recording engineer: Wyclef Jean and Warren Riker
arranger: Lauryn Hill
co-producer: Pras Michel and Jerry Duplessis
lead vocals & background vocals: Lauryn Hill
lyricist: Norman Gimbel
composer: Charles Fox
I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style.
And so I came to see him and listen for a while.
And there he was this young boy, a stranger to my eyes.

Strumming my pain with his fingers,
(one time, one time)
singing my life with his words,
(two time, two time)
killing me softly with his song,
killing me softly with his song,
telling my whole life with his words,
killing me softly with his song

I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd,
I felt he found my letters and read each one out loud.
I prayed that he would finish but he just kept right on.

Strumming my pain with his fingers,
(one time, one time)
singing my life with his words,
(two time, two time)
killing me softly with his song,
killing me softly with his song,
telling my whole life with his words,
killing me softly with his song

(instramental interlude)
Strumming my pain with his fingers,
(yes he was)
singing my life with his words,
killing me softly with his song,
killing me softly with his song,
telling my whole life with his words,
killing me softly with his song

The Score

length: 5:03
producer: Jerry Duplessis, Wyclef Jean, Diamond D and Lauryn Hill
guest performer: Diamond D
lead vocals: Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean and Pras Michel
mixer: Warren Riker and Wyclef Jean
engineer: Warren Riker
recording engineer: Wyclef Jean and Warren Riker
co-producer: Jerry Duplessis, Pras Michel, Wyclef Jean and Lauryn Hill
composer: Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, Diamond D, Pras Michel
Look into the rhyme
Rum to the ripple
Sing boo,
But at times I come in triple.
Blaow, blaow put the heater to your head
Now your dead.
Wyclef don't give a *beep* if your dead.
Rah, rah
Let me attack just like the black cat
You in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.
Hooo, you've got to go for backup
To do what you gotta do.
So you'll be back with France CU
Traitor in your crew is mafo heat
Put the poison in your tea
And kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede
I'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo
Awoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what.
Competition, stimulation for the rap man
Losers check your tooters
While I'm suckin' on your girls hooters.
Don't play macho, while you got the gun
Cause if you got to reload

Wyclef the multi-talented
Average heads can't handle it
I'll bring it to you live
Only if you want it.
Me and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's
(C'mon check out my melody)
The W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef
Through any contest
I'm victorious
Still keep it real, if you will and manifest
Through your skills, not by how many shells you peel.

I'm a bring down the ruckus
Play the nutcracker
Rough-neck rednecks make me no bother
Time after time, ask Cyndi Lauper,
Boss, you don't want to **** with my partners
Motion, commotion, what's your proposal
Uphold two-fold, the crew is disposal
Like utensil, false identical,
I autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil

I'm the L, Won't you pull it
Straight to the head
With the speed of a bullet
Cuttin' jokers off at the meeky-freeky gullet
Lyrical sedative, keep *****s medative
Head rushers I give to creative kids and fiends
Dreams of euphoria,
Aurora,
To another galaxy
Phallic-sy
Be this microphone, but get lifted
Lyrically I'm gifted
Burn on in without the roach clip (it)
Henders, mind-bender
Pleasure sender,
So frequently your nerve endings belong to me
Wrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke
Wack *****s choke
From the fumes that I emote,
Or emit ****
See even I feel the mahogany L
Natural hallucinogen
Turning boys to men again
With estrogen dreams
Release blues, yellows and greens
From Brownsville to Queens

I creep like a thief, no doubt the man's swift
I'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff
You stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff
(We know where to run)
And start flakin' like dandruff.
C'mon son my steelo's tight
'Cause by far I'm the best producer on the mic
On the right, analytical conceptions
With precision and leave lyrical incisions.

The Mask

length: 4:51
producer: Lauryn Hill and Wyclef Jean
lead vocals: Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel and Lauryn Hill
mixer: Bassy Bob Brockmann
engineer: Wyclef Jean and Warren Riker
recording engineer: Warren Riker and Wyclef Jean
co-producer: Jerry Duplessis and Pras Michel
composer: Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel
Have you ever worn the mask one-two one-two,
M to the A to the S to the K
Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day,
Feds be hawkin me
Jokers be stalking me,
I walk the streets and camouflage my identity,
My posse in the Brooklyn wear the mask.
My crew in the Jersey wear the mask.
Stick up kids doing boogie woogie wear the mask.
Yeah everybody wear da mask but how long will it last.

[Wyclef]
I used to work at Burger King. A king taking orders.
Punching my clock. Now I'm wanted by the manager.
Soupin me up saying "Your a nice worker,"
"How would you like a quarter raise, move up the register"
"Large in charge, but ya gotta be my spy,
Come back and tell me who's bagging my fries,
Getting high on company time."
Hell no sirree, wrong M.C.
Why should I be a spy, when you spying me,
And you see what ya thought ya saw but never seen.
Ya missed ya last move, Checkmate! Crown me King,
Hold my 22 pistol whipped him in his face.
Hired now I'm fired, sold bud now I'm wired,
Eyes pitch red but the beat bop my head
Hit the streets for relief, I bumped into the Feds,
I got kidnapped they took me to D.C.,
Have me working underground building missiles for World War III.

M to the A to the S to the K,
Put the mask up on the face just to make the next day.
Brothers be gaming, Ladies be claiming.
I walk the streets and camouflage my identity.
My posse Uptown wear the mask.
My crew in the Queens wear the mask.
Stick up kids with the Tommy Hill wear the mask.
Yeah everybody wear the mask but how long will it last.

[Lauryn Hill]
I thought he was the wonder, and I was stunned by his lips,
Taking sips sipping Amaretto sour with a twist,
Shook my hips to the bass line, this joker grabbed my waistline,
Putting pressure on my spine trying to get L-Boog to wind,
I backed up off him then caught him with five finger to his face,
I had to put him in his place,
This kids invading my space,
But then I recognized the smile, but I couldn't place the style,
So many fronts in his mouth, I thought he was the Golden Child,
Then it hit me that's Tariq from off the street around Grams.
I haven't seen him since fifteen, when he got booked for doing scams.
I tried to walk away but he wouldn't let me leave,
He ran up quick behind me asking, "Yo what happened to my *****
Steve?"
Steve was like this kid I went with back in Grammar School.
I chuckled knucklehead I seen him yesterday he's cool,
He's busted, "so who you checking for now?"
Probably some intellectual.
I kept the conversation straight and he kept trying to make it sexual.
Then his old lady tried to play me waved her hands up in my face,
Yo I told her check your man cause ***** you acting out of place.

M to the A to the S to the K,
Put the mask up on the face just to make the next day.
Brothers be fronting, Then they be running,
I walk the streets and camouflage my identity.
My posse in the Bronx wear the mask
My crew on the hour wear the mask.
Stick up kids rollin' in the Omni wear the mask
Yeah everybody wear the mask but how long will it last.

[Praz]
3 A.M. in the morning on the Boulevard,
I'm still at large engaged with my entourage,
Me and Godfather and a 67 Dodge.
I stepped out the note to post up my guard
Searching for my car that was stolen from Scotland Yard.
My first instinct was to check the chop shop garage.
As I rung the bell someone tapped me on my back,
I turned around to look it was a rookie in a mask.
He said, "I got a itchin' on my trigger,
Don't move ***** I'm taking you for murder."
See cops got two faces like two laces on my Reeboks.
My knees knock as I step back for a claear shot,
Well did you shoot him? Naw kid I didn't have the balls,
That's when I realized I'm pumpin' too much Biggie Smalls.

M to the A to the S to the K,
Put the mask up on the face just to make the next day.
Brothers be beefing, Cops be theivin'
Brothers be sceamin', And should be teamin'
Jokers be smoking it, And stay broke in it,
*****es be teasing, Get money sleazin',
*****'s be creeping, Baby mothers be weapin',
I walk the streets and camouflage my identity.
My posse in the Haiti wear the mask,
My crew in Jamaica wear the mask
Stick up kids bumping Fu-Gee-La wear the mask
Yeah everybody wear the mask but how long will it

Cowboys

length: 5:24
producer: Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean and John Forté
guest performer: Pacewon, Rah Digga and Young Zee
guest lead vocals: Young Zee, Pacewon, Rah Digga and John Forté
lead vocals: Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean and Pras Michel
mixer: Wyclef Jean and Warren Riker
engineer: Warren Riker
recording engineer: Wyclef Jean and Warren Riker
co-producer: Pras Michel and Jerry Duplessis
composer: Young Zee, Pacewon, Rah Digga, Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, John Forté, Pras Michel
Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side, do he live
No the ***** dies

Zen, zen zen zen zen zen zen
You shot your bullet, but the bullet wwnt
Desperado, do work for new boy
I pull out my gun and plug two like trugoy

Wyclef
Pace 1
Yo this was how the west was won
Our motto, a true desperado
Rappers want to be actors
So they play the Jesse James character
And get they bones fractured
You ain't got no guns, you off to the precinct
Inside tough guys are feminine like sheena easton
Woman cry, woman cry, son still dies
Thrown off the building like the fall guy
Caved in the grave cause you didn't know how to behave
Playin' cowboy now you sleep with the slaves
Who's the desperado, sellin' bottles in the alley
On some villain ****, wearin' a mask like Jim Carrey
With his gat cocked, stinkin' up the crack spot
Pace 1 dies with both eyes on the jackpot
The town that I'm from beggars eat cat chowder
Sundance kid is the everyday purse snatcher
If you see him coming, you better start running
Like a terrorist I guarantee you he'll be humming
Dynamite, dynamite, clef I got the cash
Yo let's skip town like harlem nights

Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side, do he live
No the ***** dies

We make moves in stage coaches
Rah digga likes the roaches
If anyone approaches
We be like noches, buenos
And I compose a poem for the many gun-slingers
R&b singers, perpetrating guns with two fingers
My style is perhaps one of the foulest
I inhale large clouds of smoke through my chalice
(Buckin' at stars) and write rhymes for hours
The ghetto missy, drinkin' whiskey sours
Bust this scenario, can't no other *****s in the barrio
(From newark to Ontario), bust us when we in stereo
Cause me and rashida rock the battles
It's apparent, your no talent, cause your blazin' in your saddle
Watch these rap *****es get all up in your pockets
Then bounce with accountants that give me good stock tips
Cause props is up, digga's through the roof
Burnin' *****s like I'm 90 proof
And for all you head beaters
The lead eaters, the cheaters soon to be retreaters
While mamasitas carry real heaters
I rock the dooby and
L rocks the Nubian twists 96
************s gettin' dissed

Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side, do he live
No the ***** dies

Yeah, when the out's hooked up with the refugees
It be more *****s than the NAACP
Comin' up on weed of all type
Smokin' home-grown out tobacco pipes
(You've got to know when to hold them
Know when to fold them)
I can take the sunshine, piss in your wine
Steal your concubine, walk away with your goldmine
So oh ah achiga, mamase mamasa mamakusa
**** the sheriff, I shot john Wayne
Push him off the runaway train in the movie shane
Yeah me and that kid, um "what's his name?"
That would be me, young zee from no brain
Smokin' pure from the health fodd store
While my whore slaps cops like zsa zsa gabor
**** with out's it's like those Islam brothers
We march through your hood with a million ************s
So let's get high off the fu-gee-la
When the east is in the house, like I'm blahzay-blah

When pandemonium strikes, at midnight
Full moon splits soft *****s in a lunatic
On some absurd ****
You talk back, hustlin' crack don't make you bigger
*****s who take your measurements quick, don't make it quicker
Stick and slide with vigor
City streets hot like liquor
21 gun saluting, shootin' *****s from the roof and
Got nerve to mouth about it and the weight you claim you movin'
Your whole style is loose and we goin' sew it like it's cotton
You fail to recognize that everybody could get gotten
The bounty on your head, says your dead by manana
Pop babies whisperin' that there's a body dropped, behind the lot
Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block
Medina is the east side of town lounge never till we yawnin'
Gun players regular front page is the bonus
Life will keep existing while I'm shitin' on the corners
Life will keep existing while I'm shitin' on the corners

Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side, do he live
No the ***** dies

No Woman, No Cry

length: 4:34
producer: Wyclef Jean and Lauryn Hill
lead vocals: Wyclef Jean
engineer: Warren Riker
co-producer: Jerry Duplessis and Pras Michel
membranophone programming: John Forté
composer: Vincent Ford
lyricist: Vincent Ford
I remember when we used to sit in the government yard in brooklyn
Observing the crookedness as it mingled with the good people we meet
Good friends we had
Good friends we've lost along the way
In this great future you can't forget your past, so dry your tears
I say and to my peeps who passed away

No woman, no cry, no woman no cry, say say say
Hey little sister don't shed no tears
No woman no cry say say say

I remember when we used to rock in a project yard in jersey
And little georgie would make the firelight
As stolen cars passed through the night
And then we'd hit the corner store for roots, paper, and brew
My drink's my only remedy
For pain of losing family, but while I'm gone shorty
Everything's gonna be alright, everything's gonna be alright
Fugees come to the dance tonight, everything's gonna be alright
O everything's gonna be alright
The gun man's in the house tonight
But everything's gonna be alright

Oh ah oh ah

No woman, no cry, no woman no cry, say say say
Hey little sister don't shed no tears
No woman no cry say say say

I remember when we used to sit in a government yard in trench town
The hypocrites as they mingled with the good people we meet
Good friends we had oh good friends we've lost
Along the way hey
In this great future
You can't forget your past so dry your tears I say
And no woman no cry. no woman no cry say say say
Hey, little sister, don't shed no tears
No woman no cry and to my peeps who passed away

Oh ah oh ah

Manifest/Outro

producer: Lauryn Hill, Jerry Duplessis and Wyclef Jean
lead vocals: Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel and Lauryn Hill
vocal: Red Alert
mixer: Wyclef Jean and Warren Riker
engineer: Warren Riker
recording engineer: Warren Riker and Wyclef Jean
co-producer: Jerry Duplessis and Pras Michel
turntable: DJ Skribble
composer: Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel
[Wyclef]
I woke up this morning
I was feeling kind of high
It was me, Jesus Christ and Haile Selassie
Selassie said greetings in the name of the most high,
Jah rhastafari,
Christ, took a sip of the amaretto,
Passed it down the table said today I'll be betrayed by one you 12
Disciples
Give me a clue who could do this to you?
The kid on the block who makes less money than you.
Crooked cops pulled up, they offered him 30 pieces of silver
All he got to do is deliver the savior
Right on bergen st. from bad luck to good luck
My cup runneth over, pass it down, guzzle up
The time has arrived, the prophecy will manifest
I saw death, I got scared, butterflies on my chest
Father if possible, pass this cup before me,
But it's too late I chose my destiny in gethsemane.

[Lauryn Hill]
You see I loved hard once, but the love wasn't returned
I found out the man I'd die for, he wasn't even concerned
And time it turned,
He tried to burn me like a perm
Though my eyes saw the deception, my heart wouldn't let me learn
From um, some, dumb woman, was I,
And every time he'd lie, he would cry and inside I'd die.
My heart must have died a thousand deaths
Compared myself to Toni Braxton thought I'd never catch my breath
Nothing left, he stole the heart beating from my chest
I tried to call the cops, that type of thief you can't arrest
Pain suppressed, will lead to cardiac arrest
Diamonds deserve diamonds, but he convinced me I was worth less
When my peoples would protest,
I told them mind their business, cause my **** was complex
More than just the sex
I was blessed, but couldn't feel it like when I was caressed
I'd spend nights clutching my breasts overwhelmed by god's test
I was god's best contemplating death with a Gillette
But no man is ever worth the paradise manifest

[Praz]
Gun-clap shell cap,
Got them crawling on they back
Come through with the fu
They be who the **** is that
It's unpredictable, when my tongue performs like jujitsu
Cut you with my lyrics, stab you with my pencil
Lethal injection, witness protection
Refugee camp's under investigation
Gunshot bursts in all directions
For the wack mc's we read your revelations
Discharge through your pores
Get raw and kill boors
I can capleton when I'm on a tour
Some manifest, with slugs in they chest
God bless all the cowboys in the wild wild west

Fu‐Gee‐La (Refugee Camp remix)

length: 4:24
producer: Wyclef Jean and Lauryn Hill
guest performer: John Forté
guest lead vocals: John Forté
lead vocals: Lauryn Hill and Wyclef Jean
mixer: Warren Riker and Wyclef Jean
engineer: Warren Riker
recording engineer: Warren Riker and Wyclef Jean
co-producer: Jerry Duplessis and Pras Michel
composer: Salaam Remi, Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel

Fu‐Gee‐La (Sly & Robbie mix)

length: 5:28
remixer: Sly & Robbie
producer: Wyclef Jean, Handel Tucker, Lauryn Hill and Jerry Duplessis
membranophone: Lowell “Sly” Dunbar
guest lead vocals: John Forté
lead vocals: Wyclef Jean
vocal: Akon
mixer: Handel Tucker and Ed Hudson
recording engineer: Ed Hudson, Courtney Small and Delroy "Fatta" Pottinger
arranger: Handel Tucker
bass: Robert “Robbie” Shakespeare
keyboard: Handel Tucker
spoken vocals: Garfield "Gus" Parkinson
membranophone programming: Lowell “Sly” Dunbar
composer: Salaam Remi, Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel
We used to be number ten
Now we're permanent one
In the battle lost my finger, mic became my arm
Pistol nozzle hits your nasal, blood becomes lukewarm
Tell the woman be easy naah squeeze the charmin
Test Wyclef, see death flesh get scorned
Beat you so bad make you feel like you ain't wanna be born
And tell your friends stay the hell out of my lawn
Chicken George became dead George stealin' chickens from my farm
Damn, another dead pigeon
If your mafiosos then I'm bringin' on Haitian Sicilians
Nobody's shootin', my body's made of hand grenade
Girl bled to death while she was tongue kissing a razor blade
That sounds sick maybe one eday I'll write a horror
Blackula comes to the ghetto, jacks an Acura
Stevie Wonder sees crack babies becoming enemies of their own families
What's going on?
Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of Babylon, trying to front like he's down with
Mount Zion

Ooh la la la
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Ooh la la la
It's the natural LA that the refugees bring
Ooh la la la la la la lalala la lah
Sweet thing

Yeah in saloons we drink Boone's and battle goons till high noon
Bust rap toons on flat spoons, take no shorts like poon poon's
See hoochies pop coochies, for Gucci's and Lucci
Find me in my Mitsubishi, eatin' sushi, bumpin' fugees
Hey hey hey
Try to take the crew and we don't play play
Say say say
Like Paul McCartney, not hardly
Oddly enough
I can see right through your bluff
*****s huff and they puff but they can't handle us, we bust
Cause we fortified, I could never hide, seen "Cooley high"
Cried when Cochise died
I'm twisted, black listed by some other negroes
Don ha ha,'t remove my Polos on the first episode
Ha ha you shouldn't diss refugees, and
Ha ha ha ha, you whole sound set's bootie , and
Ha ha ha ha, you have to respect Jersey, 'cause I'm superfly when
I'm super-high on the fu-gee-la

Ooh la la la
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Ooh la la la
It's the natural LA that the refugees bring
Ooh la la la la la la lalala la lah
Sweet thing

I sit ninety degrees underneath palm trees
Smokin' beadies as I burn my calories
Brooklyn roof tops become Brooklyn tee-pees
Who that be, enemies, wanna see the death of me
From Hawaii to Hawthorne, I run marathons, like
Buju Banton, I'm a true champion, like
Farakkhan reads his daily Qu'ran it's a phenomenon
lyrics fast like Ramadan

What's goin' on
Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of Babylon, trying to front like he's down with
Mount Zion
What's goin' on
Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of babylon, trying to front like he's down with
Mount Zion

Ooh la la la
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Ooh la la la
It's the natural LA that the Refugees Bring
Ooh la la la la la la lalala la lah, Sweet thing
Ooh la la la
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Ooh la la la
It's the natural LA that the refugees bring
Ooh la la la la la la lalala la lah, sweet thing

Mista Mista

length: 2:43
producer: Wyclef Jean
lead vocals: Wyclef Jean
composer: Wyclef Jean
Mista mista
Can I get five dollars
So I can get something to eat
Hell no motherfucka
You can't get no money from me
Cause everytime I give you a dollar
You go get shot up with more and more needles
And you tell me that you're drug free
Drug free
Mista mista
I haven't ate anything for a week
Can I get a quarter?
Hell no motherfucka
What can a quarter get you?
Nothing motherfucka
You are just fucked up
Off them fucked up drugs
You know you need to leave alone
But you keep telling me that you're drug free
Motherfucka
You ain't drug free, you're a fiend
And everytime I try to help you
You pretend as if it's okay
Then later on in the week
You go back to shootin' needles, to sniffin'
Oh mf, but you told me you were drug free
Drug free
You ain't drug free motherfucka
So you damn well, can't get no motherfuckin money

Fu‐Gee‐La (Refugee Camp Global mix)

length: 4:20
producer: Jerry Duplessis and Lauryn Hill
guest lead vocals: John Forté
lead vocals: Wyclef Jean
composer: Salaam Remi, Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, Pras Michel
We used to be number 10
Now we're permanent one
In the battle lost my finger, mic became my arm
Pistol nozzle hits your nasal, blood becomes lukewarm
Tell the woman be easy naah squeeze the charmin
Test wyclef, see death flesh get scorned.
Beat you so bad make you feel like you ain't wanna be born
And tell your friends stay the hell out of my lawn
Chicken george became dead george stealin' chickens from my farm
Damn, another dead pigeon
If your mafiosos then I'm bringin' on haitian sicilians
Nobody's shootin', my body's made of hand grenade
Girl bled to death while she was tongue-kissing a razor blade
That sounds sick maybe one eday I'll write a horror
Blackula comes to the ghetto, jacks an acura
Stevie wonder sees crack babies be-coming enemies of their own families
What's going on?
Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of babylon, trying to front like he's down with
Mount zion

Ooh la la la
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Ooh la la la
It's the natural la that the refugees bring
Oooh la la la la la la lalala la laaah
Sweet thing

Yeah in saloons we drink boone's and battle goons till high noon
Bust rap toons on flat spoons, take no shorts like poon poon's
See hoochies pop coochies, for gucci's and lucci
Find me in my mitsubishi, eatin' sushi, bumpin' fugees
Hey hey hey
Try to take the crew and we don't play play
Say say say
Like paul mccartney, not hardly
Odd-ly enough
I can see right through your bluff
*****s huff and they puff but they can't handle us, we bust
Cause we fortified, I could never hide, seen "cooley high"
Cried when cochise died
I'm twisted, black-listed by some other negroes
Don't remove my polos on the first episode
Ha ha ha ha, you shouldn't diss refugees, and
Ha ha ha ha, you whole sound set's bootie, and
Ha ha ha ha, you have to respect jersey, cause I'm superfly when
I'm super-high on the fu-gee-la

Ooh la la la
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Ooh la la la
It's the natural la that the refugees bring
Oooh la la la la la la lalala la laaah
Sweet thing

I sit 90 degrees underneath palm trees
Smokin' beadies as I burn my calories
Brooklyn roof tops become brooklyn tee-pees
Who that be, enemies, wanna see the death of me
From hawaii to hawthorne, I run marathons, like
Buju banton, I'm a true champion, like
Farakkhan reads his daily qu'ran it's a phenomenon
Lyrics fast like ramadan

What's goin' on
Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of babylon, trying to front like he's down with
Mount zion
What's goin' on
Armageddon come you know we soon done
Gun by my side just in case I gotta rump
A boy on the side of babylon, trying to front like he's down with
Mount zion

Ooh la la la
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Ooh la la la
It's the natural la that the refugees bring
Ooh la la la la la la lalala la laaah, sweet thing
Ooh la la la
It's the way that we rock when we're doing our thang
Ooh la la la
It's the natural la that the refugees bring
Ooh la la la la la la lalala la laaah, sweet thing