De La Soul

De La Soul - Potholes In My Lawn lyrics

(Yo, something's wrong here. No, not again!)

(Get the daisies for the...)

Potholes in my lawn

DOVE:

Everybody's sayin'

What to do when suckin' lunatics start diggin' and chewin'

They don't know that the Soul don't go for that

Potholes in my lawn

And that goes for my rhyme sheet

Which I concentrated so hard on, see

I don't ask for maximum security

But my dwellin' is swellin'

It nipped my bud when I happened to fall

Into a spot

Where no ink or an ink-blot

Was on a scroll

I just wrote me a new 'mot'

But now it's gone

There's no

Suckers knew that I hate

To recognise that every time I'm writin'

It's gone

(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)

(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)

Potholes in my lawn

POS:

I've found that it's not wise

To leave my garden untended

'Cause eyes have now pardoned all laws of privacy

Even paws are after my writer

See, I've found that everyone's sayin'

What to do when suckers are preyin'

On my well-guarded spreadsheets

Oh why, hell does it send up fleets

Of evil-doers through the big hole

To get to evil-doers who dig holes

Which leaves my lawn with lawn-chew

I think I'd better plant traces to give clues

Or better yet call 911

And when they get here I inform them I'm the Plug One

Open a chair and let them realize the reason

For concern of the Soul,

'Cause we've come down with a case of potholes

(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)

(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)

Potholes in my lawn

(Who stole, who stole, who stole the cookie

from the cookie jar?)

DOVE:

Now you got the message

What to do when you die

The death that I predict in 'Plug Tunin'

It's a shame that you deny to claim

That you stole my words of fame

That I wrote in my rhyme sheet

Which I concentrated so hard on, see

I don't ask for a barbed wire fence, B

But my dwellin' is swellin'

It nipped my bud when I happened to fall

Into a spot

Where no ink or an ink-blot

Was on a scroll

I just wrote me a new 'mot'

But now it's gone there's no

Suckers knew that I hate

To recoginse that every time I'm writin'

It's gone

Potholes in my lawn

(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-a)

(Yodel-a-hee, Yodel-oh-hee, Yodel-ee-hee-hee-hee)

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