De La Soul Lyrics

Album: 3 Feet High

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)