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Oodles of O’s (Live at Tramps, NYC, 1996)
by
De La Soul
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Lyrics
Ego trip, ego trip My man Plug Two through the ego trip Oodles and oodles of O's, you know You get 'em from my sister You get 'em from my bro All I is is man, and once an embryo Am I solid gold? I don't cast a glow Yes, I guess it's reflex Some have no control (What?) I'd rather let a laughter And tally, off I go Canoeing in the river or out into the O You just know we're not So not play the role Some are lovey-Dovey, ah you crazy crow And some shake your hand but (This is called the Show) Ayo, I was John Doe, now I'm Mr. Jolico' p*ssed with the witness, so now I adore O's got the world ('cause O's was on tour) Ayo, girls gave the O's (and all my n***as, for sure) Now, where they arose, well, nobody knows And what do they mean? Well, here's how it goes Well, oh shoot's got the O's when you hold the dough You know who you are, but they didn't know And now with respect they flex like a pro You're first another n***a but now an Afro Oodles, O's, O's, O's Oodles, O's, O's, O's Oodles, O's, O's, O's Oodles, O's, O's, O's Oodles, O's, O's, O's Last of the fast Plug pipers at your door In your eyes burning like rubbing alcohol Native is the Tongue that speaks the Guacomo Kinfolk will play this in stere-ere-o Chanters play the part of a herd at a show Pos prints the peace on his jeans or Girbeaux But let the herd know if beef they wanna throw Lunches of punches is what we'll bestow Now, oodles of O's, they have the "Ho's" in mic checks O's take the shape of medallions and specs Don't forget the O's that let the air in my nose Breathin' in the fresh, stale hit the road Girls ask for flicks and unblock the pores Eat the Al Greens, we don't sniff the ker-plows My man Mase got something to say and it goes: (Maseo is rockin' on the radio) I think we're talkin' 'bout the oodles of O's, ya know I think we're talkin' 'bout the Oodles of O's, yeah Talkin' 'bout the oodles of O's, ya know I think we're talkin' 'bout the oodles of O's I think we're talkin' 'bout the oodles of O's, ya know I think we're talkin' 'bout oodles of O's, yeah Talkin' 'bout the O's and the oodles and the oodles and the oodles (Oh, sh*t) Hoods like to play my Joe, ya know Guns goin' "bo!" people hit the floor Don't have a piece but an arrow and bow Target it firm 'cause I'm head Comancho Charging barricades like a raging rhino The donuts come big and some in jumbo The Landlord is finished but before I go We give a shout out to Tramps and our fellow Jungle Bros Word up We love y'all
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