[Butterfly]

Smooth to the ooze came Butter

Try to gank my style and I'll hip you to the heater

At the speed of bop grew the hard rock

You can ask my dads Chairman Mao comrades

Squattin' at they pads

Diggin' on the jazz that's the half of it

Uncle Sam showed us all his space we refuted it

Told him that ghetto is the aim, let go of my brain

Then we changed your boogie 'cause your boogie had to change



[Ladybug]

Caught a fat chat with a cat where I'm from

Flipping mad tracks on a love child Nickel Bag

Ah Mecca much jive and a jazz touch

With a straight no chase, a Dig Plan erase

Snatch an acid insect changed her dialect

{Kept it}

Mr. Doodlebug come tight with a ticket

Said we couldn't drip it

Came in and we kicked it with a glass of water on the rocks

Nip it



[Doodlebug]

Jazz, in the last 5 years has progressed in its fits

and starts of sudden discoveries and

startled reactions. New principles, new sounds,

new rhythms and harmonies have been advanced with unusual frequency.

Not surprisingly, many of the younger musicians have been quietly digesting

this information almost as quiuckly as it has appeared.

As a result, they've acquired a degree of

musical sophistication which supersedes many of the previous standards of excellence.

So it's no longer especially relevant to ask the young saxophone player,

for example, to demonstrate his ability by running through all the Charlie Parker licks.



[Ladybug]

Come little hoods peep out the eyelids

Stash a fat gat 'cause the loops let you dig

With a Bloom Swoon and a Full Moon

Mecca Bug no fake takes we let alone baits

Pitchin' up your cakes might cause a horn rush but then a bass flush

Meta more emphasis as I trip this Butter bug pour it out the mouth



[Butterfly]

O.K. floater to the order don't we wreck before we split

From the chaos came the fattest little shit

By the soak of it at the point of hammer click

You could either read a little Marx or hang with Spiddyocks

When the bass faces fix the deepest cuts they're the sickest

Then we just make you think you boomed with a quickness

This is what's the haps when I go to do my smack

'Cause the word got around about three cool cats

Writer : BUTLER, ISHMAEL/VIEIRA, MARY ANN
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing