Jazz (We’ve Got) (re‐recording radio) Songtext
von A Tribe Called Quest

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 twenty-one
Just like Ringling Brothers, I′ll daze and astound
Captivate the mass 'cause the prose is 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 Beemer 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 ya unball your fist
For we put hip hop on a brand new twist

A brand new twist with the homi-ealistic
So low key that ya 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, address 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 ′cuz it makes ya feel serene
With the birds and the bees and all those groovy things
Like getting stomach aches when ya gotta go to work
Or staring into space when you're feeling berserk

I don′t really mind if it's over your head
′Cuz 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 Phifer come sideway
But competition, dey mus′ me come straightway
Competition, dem Phifer come sideway
But competition, dey mus' come straightway

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 Phifer really kick it?
Some even wanna dis me, but why sweat it?

I′m all into my music 'cuz it′s how I make papes
Tryin' 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 intend 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, Skiff Anselm, he gets props too

Make sure you have a system with some phat house speakers
So the new shit can rock, from Mars to Massapequa
′Cuz 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 theater 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, 'cuz 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
'Cuz the Tribe originates that feelin′ of pizzazz
It's the universal sound, best to brothers underground
In the one six below, ya didn′t have to go

Some say that I'm a sinner 'cuz I once had an orgy
And sometimes for breakfast, I eat grits and porgies
If this is a stinker, then call me a stink, I ask
"What? What?" 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 a′ Harlem, ya don't stop

Now to that girl Ramelle, ya don′t stop
I say 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
Ya keep it on, to the rhythm, ya don′t stop
And last but not least on the sure shot
It's the Zulu nation