Jazz (We’ve Got) (Re-Recording Radio)A Tribe Called Quest

[Intro: Q-Tip]
Woo...grand groove, grand groove
Woo...grand groove, grand groove

[Verse 1: Q-TIp]
Rough, rough, rugged
Tough like a nugget
Listen to The Abstract Poetic, don't snub it
The midnight marauder is the hype beat arranger
Don't front on my lyrics or the tool 'cause it's danger
Hook you like a junkie, you'll flip like a monkey
To the openness of the rhythm, so proceed because I'm funky
I get down, down like a fly hooker's panties
Make you catch a spirit and motivate a fanny
I be the fly poet, rappers, they get jelly
Upset when I rock, 'cause yo, they rhymes is smelly
See, I got it going on like a Forbes tax return
Listening to these lyrics when it's hot will make it burn
Baby burn, baby burn, up into the heavens
The skies up above, the one you think of
Is the highly regarded, hell of the people
Your mic and my mic? Come on, yo, no equal (Word!)
So if ya wanna do it to yourself
That is to mess around with the jazz, then just blame yourself
'Cause you made your bed, so now you lay in it
That's your shit on the floor, then go and play in it
I refuse to catch a 'L' in a battle
'Cause yo, I got the jazz and I'll whup a rapper's ass
Into little next to nuthin'
Test me if I'm frontin'
I'll pass with flying colors 'cause yo, I am that brotha that can rock

[Chorus: Q-Tip]
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
We've got the jazz, we've got the jazz, come on
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
We've got the jazz
Come on, come on, Phife

[Verse 2: Phife]
No need for introductions 'cause you know who I be
(The Phife Dawg) Yep, the one who loves to slaugher MC's
I got style, grace and razamatazz
I'm like my girl Patrice Rushen, yo, I add pizzazz, now
Most people remember Phife from the Phife like smoothness
But now it's time to hit you with roughneck rudeness
I'm still vexed, fuming, gots to come raw
The first punk that tries to flex, I'll be cracking your jaw
I'll mold you, fold you, roll you up like a spliff
Don't ever try for test or else that ass will get whipped
I'm forever poppin' junk, it's like a fat invite
To any MC who wants to flex, yo, we can do this tonight
Gel up my posse up on Linden and 1-9-2
Pull up my brothas from Sayers Ave., the Brooklyn Zoo
All my crew up in Strong Island, so yo, don't sleep
'Cause it only takes a beat to watch that ass get beat
Brothas wanna play rough, but they can all get some
Wanna be hero, but you're a zero, that means you gets none
Don't ever try to step to a kid you can't get with
Why mess with a brotha that your girl once slept with?
I'm a negro, he's a negro, wanna be a negro too?
But beatin' on a girl, is somethin' that a puss' would do
I love jazz, but that doesn't mean that I'm timid
Not really a gangsta rapper but I can swing it for a minute

[Chorus: Q-Tip]
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Come on
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
Who got the jazz? (We've got the jazz)
We got the jazz, we got the jazz, come on

[Outro: Q-Tip]
I go...woo..., ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, grand groove, grand groove
Yeah, and it's the beat
Ah baby, ah baby, ah baby, ah baby
Go ooh...ha-ha-ha-ha-ha...grand groove, grand groove
Yeah, and it's the beat
Check it out
We got the jazz, y'all
We got the jazz, y'all
We got the jazz, y'all
Tear it up, y'all
1, 2, y'all
Tear it up, y'all
We got the jazz, y'all
Check it out, y'all
(ad lib)