Lyrics
Nineteen eighty-eight, senior year at Garvey High
Where all the guys were corny but the girls were mad fly
Lounging with the Tipster, cooling with Shy
Scoping out the honeys, they know who they are
I was the b-ball playing, fly rhyme saying
Fly girl getting, but never was I sweating
'Cause when it came to honeys, I would go on a stroll
Until I met my match, her name was Flow
Yeah, I messed around with the one called Flow
All the troopers 'round the ways used to call her a ho
But deep down in my heart I knew that Flow was good to go
'Cause I thought it was me, like Bell Biv DeVoe
But little did I know that she was playing with my mind
The only thing I've learned is good girls are hard to find
I feel like Heavy D, I need somebody for me
Not someone who's mind is blank and trying to juice me for my banks
Swinging with my main man Lucky behind my back
What type of crap is that? Yo, how's about a smack?
Word life, I can't front, thought I was all that
But now it seems, I've met my match
I was a stone cold lover, you couldn't tell me jack
Settling down with one girl? Wasn't trying to hear that
I had Tanya, Tanika, Sharon, Karen, Tina, Stacy, Julie, Tracy
Used to love 'em, leave 'em, skeeze 'em, tease 'em
Find 'em, lose 'em, also, abuse 'em
My whole attitude was new day, next hun
And believe it or not, they all got done
But here comes Flow, with the crazy whip appeal
And I'm all too mad, like Alexander O'Neal
Is this really love? Then again, how would I know?
After all this time, trying to be a super ho
She finally played me, but yo, I'd find another
'Cause I got the crazy game and yo, I'm smooth like butter
Ayo, it's like butter
It's like butter, baby, it's like butter
It's like butter, baby, it's like butter
It's like butter, baby
Not no Parkay, but the butter, baby
It's like butter, it's like butter, baby
It's like butter, like the butter, baby
Not no Parkay, not no margarine
Strictly butter, strictly butter, baby
I remember when girls were goody two-shoes
But now they turn to freaks all of a sudden
Ease off ho, my name's Malik
Phife this, Phife that, where you going, where you at?
These girls don't know me from jack, yet I feel like the mack
You didn't want me then, so yo hon', don't want me now
Here, here, take the towel, wipe off your brow
And take the contact out your eye, you're far from looking fly
You get an E for effort, and T for nice try
And tell me what's the reason for dying your hair?
Slum Village gold still dangling in your ear
You barely have a neck but still sporting a rope
Four-finger ring just so Phifer can scope
You looked in the mirror, didn't know what to do
Yesterday your eyes were brown but today they are blue
Your whole appearance is a lie and it can never be true
And if you really like yourself then you would try and be you
If your hair and eyes were real, I wouldn't have dissed ya
But since it was bought, I had to dismiss ya
But if you can't achieve it, then why not try and weave it?
If you can't extend it then you might as well suspend it
If you can't braid it, best thing to do is fade it
I ask you did your hair and you tell me Diane made it
If you were you and just you, talk to you, maybe
But I can't stand no bionic lady
Trying hard to look fly, but yo, you're looking dumber
If I wanted someone like you, I would have swung with Jaime Sommers
You wanna be treated right? See Father MC
Or check Ralph Tresvant for sensitivity
'Cause I am not the one, I got more game than Parker Brothers
Phife Dawg is on the mic and I'm smooth like butter
Butter
Butter
Butter
Butter