Why do we have to cross over?
Why are niggas always crossing over somethin', huh?
I mean, what's the matter, huh?
They can accept our music as long as they can't see our faces

One, Two
One two, you got it
Wootah

Runnin' through the trenches (what?)
Runnin' through the trenches (what?)
Runnin' through the trenches, it's the Patti Dooke
(It's the Patti, what?)
Runnin' through the trenches (oh)
Runnin' through the trenches, it's the Patti's Dooke

Runnin' through the trenches (what?)
Runnin' through the trenches (what?)
Runnin' through the trenches, it's the Patti Dooke
(It's the Patti, what?)
Runnin' through the trenches (oh)
Runnin' through the trenches, it's the Patti's Dooke

Just the other day I got a starter kit
(An M is a terrible thing to waste)
Caught the face from the backs of the border of the mind state
I play control to a fraud (nah, it ain't happenin')
Nada to make it even
Robbin' and theivin' is one who infiltrates with a Colgate frown
Nor remember my nasal for I sniff frequencies
(Well, it started in the year of '78)
But it's '93 or should I say '94 for my style is much more
(I said, come in) come in
(Come on) come out into my reservoir
As I macks a men your bastard style has just been stuck
By a sticker with a 'frigerator lickin'
What if how's about why would ever thought that
The napalm would bust your jeans

Mash it up, the one with the beard
Mega moustache the beat (hide it)
Deep under sheets, cover this here
Hostin' all bets with watch out Mr. John
It's Jimmy and the jet, standin' on the pier
I'm known as the farmer, cultivatin' mate without mendin'
Bendin', compromising any of my styles to gain a smile
Listen while you hear it
There's no pink in my slip
I reckon that the rhythm and the blues in the rap got me red
While the boys from Tommy plant bridge crossin' to a larger community
Yet they're soon to see I have a brother named Luck
A nigga named Dres
A groupie named Cassandra caught bobbin' on the head
Of a Baby named Chris, I missed a kid who caught wreck when sayin'
(Afrika and I when Sammy B's on the set)

Runnin' through the trenches (huh?)
Runnin' through the trenches (what?)
Runnin' through the trenches it's the Patti Dooke
(It's the Patti, what?)
Runnin' through the trenches (oh)
Runnin' through the trenches it's the Patti's Dooke

(Prevention against sucka M.C.'s)
(Prevention against sucka M.C.'s)
(Prevention against sucka M.C.'s)
(And now, prevention against sucka M.C.'s)

We decided to change the cover a little bit
Because we see the big pic'
Negroes and white folks buyin' this album
Negroes and white folks buyin' this album
Everybody's gonna know who this group is
We just felt that the picture wasn't as important as it was
That we succeed in crossing over
Cross over ain't nuthin' but a double cross
Once we lose our audience we never gon' get them back
Next thing you know they try to change our sound

Let no man put asunder
Severin' the groups I never blunder
Cashin' all the checks on the mic
I might cherry to the bush, brand Plug Wonder
Funk to the fame against hoods
Bridges saggin' to my woods down under
They can't be raised with the feminine praise
In conjunction with no chocolate in the mix
White boy Roy cannot feel it
But the first to try and steal it
Dilute it, pollute it, kill it
I see him infiltratin' to the masses
And when the leechin' I'ma shoot 'em all in they asses

Runnin' through the trenches (what?)
Runnin' through the trenches (yeah)
Runnin' through the trenches, it's the Patti Dooke
(It's the Patti, what?)
Runnin' through the trenches (ahh)
Runnin' through the trenches, it's the Patti's Dooke

(It might blow up but it won't go pop)
(It might blow up but it won't go pop)
(It might blow up but it won't go pop)
(It might blow up but it won't go pop)
(It might blow up but it won't go pop)
(It might blow up but it won't go pop)
(It might blow up but it won't go pop)
(It might blow up but it won't go pop)

I shed light and not skin, I ain't from Europe
Afro connects at the root of the retina of the third
Mums the word when ya blind, baby, blind to the fact
Don't rest in Compton so I don't own a gat
But respect is clear crystal 'cause Millie got a pistol
And she's down with me, wild of most wild
Born child to the old school legitimate (soul)
Talker of the many paragraphs ago
Walker of the plenty broken calves ago
Phantom of the phrase, black in many ways
'Cause I see her runnin' through the trenches
Comin' in to rent my style

I'm not the one to fuck with (I'm lockin' you out)
I'm just not to fuck with, so check it, yo (do it)
Y'all don't know who I am? (Fluid)
Listen up, son (mess up my mind)
Peace to my man Premier (do it, fluid)
And y'all better guard your trenches 'cause we runnin' through 'em (mess up my mind)
(Do it fluid, mess up my mind)
(Do it fluid, mess up my mind)
(Do it fluid, mess up my mind)
(Do it fluid, mess up my mind)
(Do it fluid, mess up my mind)

Tell me somethin', huh?
How come they never cross over to us, huh?
I never seen five niggas on Elvis Presley's album cover

Copyright: Exploration Group LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): David J. Jolicoeur, Kelvin Mercer, Paul E. Huston, Vincent Mason