Letra Refugees on the mic de Fugees

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(Intro: Wyclef Jean)
Yo´, check it out, I want all the refugees out there
to just put up your motherfuckin´ hands, you know you´re a fuckin´ immigrant
Put up your hands youknowhatI´msayin´?
I´ma start this shit off like this, this time around

(Chorus: Wyclef Jean)
Live or die, it´s nothin´ but a dark side
Fugees on the mic, yeah, yeah
Yo´, refugees on the mic, oh yeah, oh yeah
Live or die, it´s nothin´ but a dark side
Fugees on the mic, yeah, yeah
Yo´, refugees on the mic, oh yeah, oh yeah

(Wyclef Jean)
If you wanna snap (SNAP), if you wanna crack (CRACK)
If you wanna shoot, give me a second so I can lay flat
Cause this, some the cemetary´s, the reality
Where the tough guys get buried in their property
Word to Sampson, the tone will get you hung
I had a friend, they murdered his father and his three-year-old son
I heard him cursin´ the essence of the, the (PAUSE) committed the crime
But ah, murder got no time
The country has no law, it´s either rich or poor
I´m out the back door, I got nuttin´ to fight for
I´m sailin´ on a boat like a goat - I clear my throat
When I got to Brooklyn, I was broke, so I selled coke
I look in through microscope, for my country and the hurt
My eyes bleed, I see Aaron Steed, the Haitian Pope
Figure or Dundee, the-riginal Malcom X
Swing like the ki´s, so should I put on David Tomerfest
Though I´m humberlicious strugglin´ to jump
let me blow her upper-her bubble in your face - that´cha ego!
Aiyyo, freeze-funk, you got to stay stable
Watch out for the devil, he comes after you after the revival
When will he come, what will he do, what will he say?
That´s all a mystery, but have your hand grenade
so you can blow the motherfucker away
Beep, beep, I gotta make a sale so I can eat
So Praswell, grab the mic and be complete

Huh, lovin´ the wreck in effect, will be all in checkmate
Another style for Praswell to translate
For those who can´t relate to stay down my - no-man wait
No mistake, when I tell you, your prophet is a fake

(Wyclef Jean)
You said a contract on a Haitian, three-hundred g´s
Your sharpshooters are lousy, we mend to-high-be-high hoodies
So show your face-a when you waste, I know who´s smokin´
The bigger that you try to put out yours just makes me Mr. Nobody
Take high wit´cha just right, it´ll be like Michael get ordered, a viper you know!!
Yeah, a viper cause you might lose a life to the side by like
what did I have to in the line of the barkin´ of the bright side
You tried to scare me but I won´t mover-a
The bully of the block becomes the hour of the glock
So cuckoo!! The sounds I run are rollin´ with the bodyguard
But don´t forget the day it´s sunny but it´ll be foggy

And in the funeral, you´ll be singin´ a new tune
May your soul rest on the moon (?Jack in wood spoon!!?)
In Channel Seven, you said: "Death before Cut"
You killed so many that your conscience ended up - whattup? (WHAT!!)
Aiyyo black men, you´re dyin´ by a dozen cousin
So all I do is walk away yo´ Prince as if nothin´ happened
You call me a punk, I gotta step cause all you did was flex
But don´t get closer cause the kid still gotta keep his rep
See I´m known for the crew like the jewel was the jewel
Like the follow got the boo, like the miller got the boo
Let the fool cop the man-jewel, suck up, up the ?cool-lew?
Oh why you got the ha-ha-lew-lew?
I got the rap loose, so sci-bi-dee-bob-bob, you don´t stop
You do the rap-rap, from hip-hop to be-bop, from be-bop
to beep-beep, the Haitian kid, beeper´s goin´ off beep-beep
I gotta make a sale so I can eat, beep, beep
The Haitian kid, beeper´s goin´ off, you know I got no time to sleep, so beep-beep

(Chorus: Wyclef Jean)
Live or die, it´s nothin´ but a dark side
Fugees on the mic, YEAH!!
Yo´, refugees on the mic, oh yeah, oh yeah

Man, I went to cops the other day to plead for my innocence
They brought me in another charges of a legal residents
And L-E-N, on a foreign land, a ????
Watch me go back to my land and then there will be a thing
Gorillas in the mist, where everything, and the light becomes a priest
They put up they guard, they pump up they fists
Now I´m number one on they motherfuckin´ hit-list...
Goin´ down for first degree of manslaughter
Makin´ change out of emcee´s makin´ them outta quarters
That´s they value, that´s what they worth
Cause the first shall be last and the last shall be first, yeah
What we learned was to burn, now cause you c-came
with that machette, it´s your turn
It´s not funny, but twenty a month is what you earn baby
(We on to the Yankee, pass the mic to the "Yankee")

(Lauryn Hill)
Well I´m as cool to ya the mic I´m checkin´ comin´ from my temple
With a message, to deliver, but the back is very simple
I´m the girl "Yankee" rollin´ wit´ the kids from Haiti
coolin´ as a mighty grab who gets the last laugh hahaha...
You bite size with my Haitian from they stinks as my "Yankee"
wonderin´ who was the first to pull over girl as soon as it came out son
My history - a hypocrite, so what we gonna do?
The dope is dope is only get the man since that is true
So hip-hip with my lip as I rip with a felt tip
with a righteous situation, interpretation, a graduation
Your ventilation, and education, segregation, emancipation
a capitalization, it´s agration, not separation, ya breath the Haitians...