"Niggaz look shady"
[PMD]
It's nine-four, P's back in the door
Representin - hardcore, steppin through with the Squad tour
Mad brothers, know the lingo
And funky b-boy niggaz, they thumpin the single
From L.A. to Detroit, to Chi-Town
New York to Philly (Jersey) all around
cause it's strictly underground when I'm troopin with my sound
So save the temptation, money keep the limos
Cause that's not hip-hop, that's a fashion show
"How low can you go?" I'll tell you
?? dissin mad niggaz goin solo
Stop the press what is this? It's not rap kid
Bust it it's Shad Business
Chorus: PMD and DJ Scratch doing samples (*some unidentified*)
"People round town talkin this and that.."
[PMD] Shad Business
"People round town talkin this and that.."
[PMD] Shad Business
"People round town talkin this and that.."
[PMD] Shad Business
"People round town talkin this and that.."
[PMD]
So stop the press, no contest, no stress buddha sess
Yeah still snappin necks for some live effects
So where you comin from? The Boondocks, where my tune knocks
Pass the tinnocks to bust they loads like nine glocks
Yeah so what you sayin Hobbes?
Niggaz flock from blocks when I'm blowin up the spot
Nuff props to the moms and pops
at the one stop (what?) the violence, and racism
Black on black crime cause we're killin our brothers and sisters
Oh what tit for tat, he took this, she took that
Seems like you're guilty - until proven innocent with no facts
Some find this hard to comprehend this
It's far from equality - swing it P, it's Shad Business
Chorus
[PMD]
Enough with all the he say she say and nosy neighbors
You wanna do me a favor? Don't do me no favors
Cause nowadays "Niggaz look shady"
Fightin over the money and power, but can't take it to the grave see
I guess not -
- and that's called ignorance and it's ruinin hip-hop
So brothers wanna mess around - we mess around
And if brothers wanna "get down, get down" then we get down
cause PMD's bringin it swingin it
I hear my people callin me, and my fans singin it
Big up to Michael Jackson, and Michael Jordan
Iron Mike Tyson, Tupac Shakur an'
Flavor Flav, can't forget Snoop troop
I'm audi ghost, Swayze like kazoo
Shad Business
Chorus
Ba-bom, boom, aoowww, heh
I'm blast the cold blast, I'm back to cold blast
*scratch* from the Squad tower
(Yo don't erase that intro!)
*whistling*
Chorus: repeat 4X (with variations and Hit Squad shoutouts)
I represent the hardcore rough rugged and raw
The PMD the mic's my only friend
repeat Chorus
Verse One: PMD
I grab my cordless like my nigga DJ Scratch is on the cut
Hit Squad on live, PMD's like what (what?)
I'm too rough, gettin snuffed all in the cut
Get with the rugged raw shit, catch a nigga in the gut
Cause I'm Blass and niggaz ass stay gear with the Hilfiger
Timberland boots, Rolex, whip a Benz
So throw your hands up in the air like you don't care
Chickenheads swingin from chandeliers in they underwear
That's that b-boy shit, grab your big dick
Crack a 40, spark an L and get bent shit
Three eighty by the hip in case a nigga slip
Don't like beefs or jealousy fucks?
It's mass confusion niggaz losin by the minute tryin to win it
But thanks to hip-hop, yo Scratch spin it
Chorus 1/2
Verse Two:
Yippie-yi-yay, yippy-yo, it's the, slow-flow mechanic
Mass confusion is crusin just start to panic
and you don't stop, got the Hit Squad backin me
Spark your L's, honies sip your daquiri
Ask for P, my mission in to get richer and
lost my other half but I still got my Fisherman
hat, it ain't over til the fat chickenhead catch
wreck, snap that bitch neck
I show and prove niggaz best to move slow
The P the Mic Doc (c'mon) the micraphone's my only
friend, can't even trust nobody
Cause next thing you know I'm fuckin bustin somebody
My shadow got my back and that's the way it goes
Keep my eyes out for foes and remain on my tippy toes
Respect my flows then release it for the brothers
One to hundreds, the fuckin certified top gunners
I keep a close knit quick to roast click
Bout to pull shit, a few dimepieces if the hoes fit
It don't quit, it don't stop, and never will and
so kill it, I'm strictly hardcore so you can see it
Chorus
featuring Das EFX
Yeah yeah nine seven Das EFX
To your chin
No doubt PMD
Boondox Hit Squad PMD
Uhh
Das EFX we up on this one son
What's the deal?
Whattup P? Rough rugged and raw
Hit Squad
No doubt son yo yeah yeah keep it live
Chorus: repeat 4X
I represent the hardcore (rough rugged and raw)
The PMD the mic's my only friend
Verse One:
I grab a chorus like my nigga DJ Scratch is on the cut
Hit Squad on live, PMD's like what (what?)
I'm too tough, gettin snuffed all in the cut
Aiyyo it's diggedy Das whassup higgedy here to fuck it up
Nuttin move but the green my team be on the shine
Shiggedy shine like a light, Hit Squad we keep it tight
I light an L I ring your bells so go tell cuz it's the ill figure
Timberland boots, Rolex, with a Benz
Diggy Das EFX snap necks with PMD
Bringin the raw so you can see a b-boy is what I be
See I just can't resist this, cause Business is Business
So money mind your business, and shorty keep your distance
I did this once before, hardcore, forever in it
Tryin to win it, thank God for hip-hop, yo Scratch spin it
Chorus 1/2
Verse Two:
Yippie-yi-yay, yippy-yo, it's the, slow-flow mechanic
Mass confusion is crusin just start to panic
and you don't stop, got the Hit Squad backin me
Aiyyo we riggeddy rock your set
and I bet you never ever tackle me
What happened P?
You know what happened B I'm on mission and
lost my other half but I still got my Fisherman
hat, it ain't over til the fat chickenhead catch
wreck
Aiyyo yo it's diggedy Das EFX
The sewer rap so iggedy act like you know though
And me the Mic Doc (c'mon) the micraphone's my only
friend, can't even trust nobody
It goes liggedy-la-di-da-di
Higgedy hit you with the shotty
So to whom it may concern, from yours truly, no other
My style's butter, that's word to mother, underground gutter
B-boy brother, no singin chords, just rugged
Low budget, thought you was that nigga but you wasn't
Riggedy rough rugged and raw, straight from the floor
Fearless like the Four, Zsa Zsa like Gabor
Babe-Pah, we zonin up the hydro Squad by my side so
All my real heads keep it live represent
Chorus
[PMD]
Ah... yeah.. check it, 9-4 (yeah)
Turn it up one notch
Yeah, this goes out to the brothas in Brooklyn (Crooklyn)
All the brothas to the east coast, west coast (word)
Sittin in them cars, you know what I'm sayin' (word 'em up)
Ready to blow them amps, yeah hit them bass buttons
To all the get low posses, you know what I'm sayin'
Zone 7 in the house (word 'em up) Word bond
Got my man Lavell to the left, my man Roland Harris ridin' shotgun
And of course DJ Scratch on the 1 and 2 (yeah)
Yo, Lavell, you ready to flip dough in 9-4? Sic 'em, champ
[Lavell]
I'm snakebitten, spittin' venom infected with the outrageous
contagious spreadin', nobody's protected
Microphones floatin' freely through zones, crushin' clones
So don't disturb me and the Mic Doc, searchin' real domes
Push the button, helter skelter, guard your mental
Shit's past the point, on the brink not blinkin' is essential
Niggaz blast the joint, niggaz blastin' niggaz while I'm blastin
Spastically out of electric sockets rarely seen like Hailey's Comet
What was that? Bring it back. What was that? Shit was tight, fat
All that new vocabulary get the bozack
Squad, the Def Squad, your brain is numb
Lavell Bass, Roland Harris and Parrish Smith stomp that cranium
[Roland Harris]
While brothas swingin' they paws often, knowin' who it is, it's teleportic
Me, I'm Roland Harris, he's movin past the Lavell staff
His only images of a god is, yo, when you see the
PMD rolled a massive squad yo if you peter
See me no jack joke to jack rope-a-dope, no no no no
We got bloody palms suddy, fuckin' already knew that though
Crazy is the peels the reals going to ace you over gills
The most fucked up shit's about to hit the streets, which is worse, G, Me
Oh, they givin' out guns, yo. Gun control bills
But they called Big Ro ill, causin' our brothas to sit back and chill
Until align the squad G, free the squad in me
Fire exquisite looking feature, meager. And if anyone tries to
Put out these flames our chairs we throw 'em, pistol smoke, then BLAST
At last, you know who to hand the cash, the brotha with the black hoodie
Brotha AR fatigued, should he, nigga play post rhyme
Time me, 70 worst as we burst out in 84 contact go pussy
And we out, G
[PMD]
I'm sittin' in the crib, wonderin' where a sunset's at (Ha, Ha, Ha...)
I'm crosstown in the zone with my hand on the gat
Yeah, I got this. That's why they call me Swiss Smith, no bullshit
Strictly biz, not havin' it
It's too many rap hits for niggaz to be checkin' me, I'm wreckin', see
Zone 7 on the track with PMD
Up after hours, gunnin' niggaz down at the watchtower
Deep like Malcolm, deadly like gun powder
Sat back strapped, while brothas try to attack
Time to react, 'cause the Hit Squad ain't havin' that
{*vocal sample*}
Hit Squad in the house, Parrish Smith representin'
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
Check check it out, check check it out
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
(Is this the best that you can make?)
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
[Roland Harris]
My niggaz making triple figures and we out to bring terror in all our pictures
I'm always lifted when I enter the 7-digit, I'm blistered
I grab beats and break bottles and widely stick it
I pull out brains and sockets and examine it, frizziness and wickedness
Roland Harris' and his device is like a rifle, it's crazy vital
(Yoooooooowwwwwww!)
[PMD]
Back from the darkness, 'bout to spark this microphone
Niggaz tryin' to reach me but no one's home
I'm not that same nigga that bust that jam, that Gold Digger
I'm in the zone, looking at the real picture
Strike three, K'in' niggaz like a pro pitcher
So take a look at daddy, 'cause I'm representin'
From Brentwood, Long Island, Brooklyn to San Quentin
Niggaz trippin', bitin' my business formats and techniques like rabies
Juggle these, what, nuts, hard to fade, see
Nuff respect to Russell Simmons, peace from PMD
I'm out like Arsenio, that nigga's swayze
[Lavell]
I flip for those who lost their mind, must've crossed the line
And saw the other side and tried to slap some rastas comin' to find a ride
Normals dressed in jackets frontin' like it's warm. It's not
It's hot. You'll sizzle internally rot, you stinkin' blood clot
These rugged styles I flip a while
And if I step into a different schizophrenic ego see those bodies file
Body bags fill up, I kill crews and I abuse you
Connivers and labbers I stick you with the Phillips screw
Driver, why the violence trap, so I snap
Hurl and unfurl with violence, fall out like hair on steroids
When I'm p-noid, Like PS it's void
I'm-a disperse a verse that's planted to bitch
'cause that's the shit that makes my squad hit
{*vocal sample*}
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
(Is this the best that you can make?)
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
[PMD]
Hit Squad
Zone 7
Niggaz stay jeal'
Hit Squad
Peace Rockafella..
[ PMD ]
(Yo, nobody invited me to the party?)
Word em up
(Ya man)
Check it out
(Comin through)
[ VERSE 1: PMD ]
Well goddamn, another grand slam from the Zone
Black Benz with chrome, no time to phone home
Niggas try to push up, get that head flown like frisbee
Dick thee, flip the script like Bill Bixby
I ain't tryin to hear niggas, that's on the real, c-
d is in the store
So while you're steppin through, nigga, steppin through hardcore
(What) P holds his own on this here microphone
You better check your clip for blinds, all them shots, kid, still missed the dome
Fakin moves, put down the future of the funk, punk
Can't even sample, nigga, claimin to make trunks rump
You get jumped, yeah nigga, chill, I know my shit thumps
Back from the Boondox wildin, peep the slam dunk
Lumps on your headpiece, back in 3-d
I let the brothers decide just like sweepee
But for now I lay low, act like you know me, homey
( *inhales* ) here's a pull for my fake homeyz
[ VERSE 2: Top Quality ]
I be the Op-T Lity-Qua, the one you leaped
You gotta see the tricky techniques, creep but don't sleep
Got the chunky dunky styles I like to drop
Makes heads bop across mad blocks because I got
That shit that knock, a-shippity-bop-bop the spot, still hot
Ooh-ah-ooh-ah, no need to cock-block, equipped with no glocks
I rather wreck you with my decker
And damage ya, I'm no janitor but I swept ya
I kept a record of the things you messed up
Niggas thought that he musta rushed
Cause I touched these ducks fuckin with yuk
So if you do not know by now you never knew
I'm straight like 0852
I welcome you but you still refuse to swing your dukes
You gotta do what you do
Get the boot if you can't troop for shit
We're gettin still get a lick with a bit
I won't switch cause P is not havin it
I catch you when the sun goes down on the night tip
I'm standin with my mic grip
Hardcore rugged, walkin down the aisles, make you buckwild
Go check my files, you know my style
Here's a pull for my fake homeyz
[ VERSE 3: 3rd Eye ]
On the strenght, on the strenght
3rd Eye comin through..
Yeeeahhh, now let me kick a verse, gee
I'm thirsty, Lord have mercy on those who curse me
Peek-a-boo! thought I couldn't see through that gas up
Quick, I flicked a Bic and burned that wicked ass up
Who sent me, tempt me, gee, I flow till my dome's empty
Test me, baggin brothers up like ???, yes gee
Bring it on, we play for keeps, creep
Can't read my mind, I got the antidote sleep, peep it
And I get funky ???? like a junkie I'm dope
When I quote shit I wrote I go for broke no joke
I choke rappers like a toke of smoke
Ooh, pass the buddah brick I need to take a hit
I think I wanna flare (is that right?)
Who want a bite, just to kiss that ass goodnight
Cause word is bond we gon' fight
It's from the heart, brothers getting papers, they ain't paid no dues
I got some bad news, here comes the Hit Squad
And my shit's hard and it gets harder than that
Even ???? my shit's fat start believin that
You ain't even that fly enough to try and bluff
3rd Eye's rough enough to make you wanna bust that rough stuff
So here's a puff for my fake homeyz
( *inhales* ) you don't know me
[ DJ Scratch scratches ]
[ 3rd Eye ]
Here's a puff for my fake homeyz
You don't know me
Here's a puff for my fake homeyz
Fuck all the backstabbers
[ PMD ]
Hit Squad is in the house, kid
[ 3rd Eye ]
3rd Eye, 3rd Eye
[ PMD ]
Yeah kid
Shit is on
[PMD]
So let's get it on - like Marvin Gaye; hey
is that that nigga, from "You a Customer"? You're fuckin A
is for apple, J's for jack black
B is for bozack, and N is for the nutsac
(What's J for?) The J's for juggle these, please
PMD bust rhymes like niggaz bust seeds
with zero, that's not the channel I be watchin
Niggaz clockin, no time for stoppin so I keep rockin
Big up to the hip-hop, be-bop heads bop
Non-stop up the block systems knock
Girlies jock I'm locked in funk mode
Peace to my pops; cause it's
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Scandalous; Swiss Miss still funkin shit
Uhh - slow down baby, can't handle it
The way you're movin your thang, you got it goin on
Time to pop the Sean Dom
Take a swig of it - yeah drink it like a forty-oh
No champagne glasses, that's out the window
Push up and get my swerve on, take me there baby
Aww shit, PMD's gone
(Where you goin P?) Deeper and deeper
My mind's gettin stronger, she got me in the sleeper
Almost there, relax, just like I figured
Strapped down, still on the lookout for the gold digger
Blazin figure, sexin like Holly
Hoes blunts and puff the ganja like Bob Marley
She's hardcore, ride it like an outlaw
Workin it, pullin with the lockjaw
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
I'm in the war zone - far away from home, no microphone
Just biters and tombstones on the real holmes
It's do or die, no fly guy, don't ask why
Rap is outta control, don't bungee jump or hangglide
Time to slip (slide) so save the lie
Hit Squad won't die, them niggaz multiply
On the scene blowin up, sho' nuff
Wild haircut, what? Don't give a fuck
This is me, peace to EPMD
Took a break in nine-three now I'm back see
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
HAhhhh!
[PMD]
Ah... yeah.. check it, 9-4 (yeah)
Turn it up one notch
Yeah, this goes out to the brothas in Brooklyn (Crooklyn)
All the brothas to the east coast, west coast (word)
Sittin in them cars, you know what I'm sayin' (word 'em up)
Ready to blow them amps, yeah hit them bass buttons
To all the get low posses, you know what I'm sayin'
Zone 7 in the house (word 'em up) Word bond
Got my man Lavell to the left, my man Roland Harris ridin' shotgun
And of course DJ Scratch on the 1 and 2 (yeah)
Yo, Lavell, you ready to flip dough in 9-4? Sic 'em, champ
[Lavell]
I'm snakebitten, spittin' venom infected with the outrageous
contagious spreadin', nobody's protected
Microphones floatin' freely through zones, crushin' clones
So don't disturb me and the Mic Doc, searchin' real domes
Push the button, helter skelter, guard your mental
Shit's past the point, on the brink not blinkin' is essential
Niggaz blast the joint, niggaz blastin' niggaz while I'm blastin
Spastically out of electric sockets rarely seen like Hailey's Comet
What was that? Bring it back. What was that? Shit was tight, fat
All that new vocabulary get the bozack
Squad, the Def Squad, your brain is numb
Lavell Bass, Roland Harris and Parrish Smith stomp that cranium
[Roland Harris]
While brothas swingin' they paws often, knowin' who it is, it's teleportic
Me, I'm Roland Harris, he's movin past the Lavell staff
His only images of a god is, yo, when you see the
PMD rolled a massive squad yo if you peter
See me no jack joke to jack rope-a-dope, no no no no
We got bloody palms suddy, fuckin' already knew that though
Crazy is the peels the reals going to ace you over gills
The most fucked up shit's about to hit the streets, which is worse, G, Me
Oh, they givin' out guns, yo. Gun control bills
But they called Big Ro ill, causin' our brothas to sit back and chill
Until align the squad G, free the squad in me
Fire exquisite looking feature, meager. And if anyone tries to
Put out these flames our chairs we throw 'em, pistol smoke, then BLAST
At last, you know who to hand the cash, the brotha with the black hoodie
Brotha AR fatigued, should he, nigga play post rhyme
Time me, 70 worst as we burst out in 84 contact go pussy
And we out, G
[PMD]
I'm sittin' in the crib, wonderin' where a sunset's at (Ha, Ha, Ha...)
I'm crosstown in the zone with my hand on the gat
Yeah, I got this. That's why they call me Swiss Smith, no bullshit
Strictly biz, not havin' it
It's too many rap hits for niggaz to be checkin' me, I'm wreckin', see
Zone 7 on the track with PMD
Up after hours, gunnin' niggaz down at the watchtower
Deep like Malcolm, deadly like gun powder
Sat back strapped, while brothas try to attack
Time to react, 'cause the Hit Squad ain't havin' that
[vocal sample]
Hit Squad in the house, Parrish Smith representin'
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
Check check it out, check check it out
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
(Is this the best that you can make?)
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
[Roland Harris]
My niggaz making triple figures and we out to bring terror in all our pictures
I'm always lifted when I enter the 7-digit, I'm blistered
I grab beats and break bottles and widely stick it
I pull out brains and sockets and examine it, frizziness and wickedness
Roland Harris' and his device is like a rifle, it's crazy vital
(Yoooooooowwwwwww!)
[PMD]
Back from the darkness, 'bout to spark this microphone
Niggaz tryin' to reach me but no one's home
I'm not that same nigga that bust that jam, that Gold Digger
I'm in the zone, looking at the real picture
Strike three, K'in' niggaz like a pro pitcher
So take a look at daddy, 'cause I'm representin'
From Brentwood, Long Island, Brooklyn to San Quentin
Niggaz trippin', bitin' my business formats and techniques like rabies
Juggle these, what, nuts, hard to fade, see
Nuff respect to Russell Simmons, peace from PMD
I'm out like Arsenio, that nigga's swayze
[Lavell]
I flip for those who lost their mind, must've crossed the line
And saw the other side and tried to slap some rastas comin' to find a ride
Normals dressed in jackets frontin' like it's warm. It's not
It's hot. You'll sizzle internally rot, you stinkin' blood clot
These rugged styles I flip a while
And if I step into a different schizophrenic ego see those bodies file
Body bags fill up, I kill crews and I abuse you
Connivers and labbers I stick you with the Phillips screw
Driver, why the violence trap, so I snap
Hurl and unfurl with violence, fall out like hair on steroids
When I'm p-noid, Like PS it's void
I'm-a disperse a verse that's planted to bitch
'cause that's the shit that makes my squad hit
[vocal sample]
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
(Is this the best that you can make?)
(Weak ideas irritate my ears)
[PMD]
Hit Squad
Zone 7
Niggaz stay jeal'
Hit Squad
[PMD]
(Yo, nobody invited me to the party?)
Word em up
(Ya man)
Check it out
(Comin through)
[VERSE 1: PMD]
Well goddamn, another grand slam from the Zone
Black Benz with chrome, no time to phone home
Niggas try to push up, get that head flown like frisbee
Dick thee, flip the script like Bill Bixby
I ain't tryin to hear niggas, that's on the real, c-
d is in the store
So while you're steppin through, nigga, steppin through hardcore
(What) P holds his own on this here microphone
You better check your clip for blinds, all them shots, kid, still missed the dome
Fakin moves, put down the future of the funk, punk
Can't even sample, nigga, claimin to make trunks rump
You get jumped, yeah nigga, chill, I know my shit thumps
Back from the Boondox wildin, peep the slam dunk
Lumps on your headpiece, back in 3-d
I let the brothers decide just like sweepee
But for now I lay low, act like you know me, homey
[inhales] here's a pull for my fake homeyz
[VERSE 2: Top Quality]
I be the Op-T Lity-Qua, the one you leaped
You gotta see the tricky techniques, creep but don't sleep
Got the chunky dunky styles I like to drop
Makes heads bop across mad blocks because I got
That shit that knock, a-shippity-bop-bop the spot, still hot
Ooh-ah-ooh-ah, no need to cock-block, equipped with no glocks
I rather wreck you with my decker
And damage ya, I'm no janitor but I swept ya
I kept a record of the things you messed up
Niggas thought that he musta rushed
Cause I touched these ducks fuckin with yuk
So if you do not know by now you never knew
I'm straight like 0852
I welcome you but you still refuse to swing your dukes
You gotta do what you do
Get the boot if you can't troop for shit
We're gettin still get a lick with a bit
I won't switch cause P is not havin it
I catch you when the sun goes down on the night tip
I'm standin with my mic grip
Hardcore rugged, walkin down the aisles, make you buckwild
Go check my files, you know my style
Here's a pull for my fake homeyz
[VERSE 3: 3rd Eye]
On the strenght, on the strenght
3rd Eye comin through..
Yeeeahhh, now let me kick a verse, gee
I'm thirsty, Lord have mercy on those who curse me
Peek-a-boo! thought I couldn't see through that gas up
Quick, I flicked a Bic and burned that wicked ass up
Who sent me, tempt me, gee, I flow till my dome's empty
Test me, baggin brothers up like ???, yes gee
Bring it on, we play for keeps, creep
Can't read my mind, I got the antidote sleep, peep it
And I get funky ???? like a junkie I'm dope
When I quote shit I wrote I go for broke no joke
I choke rappers like a toke of smoke
Ooh, pass the buddah brick I need to take a hit
I think I wanna flare (is that right?)
Who want a bite, just to kiss that ass goodnight
Cause word is bond we gon' fight
It's from the heart, brothers getting papers, they ain't paid no dues
I got some bad news, here comes the Hit Squad
And my shit's hard and it gets harder than that
Even ???? my shit's fat start believin that
You ain't even that fly enough to try and bluff
3rd Eye's rough enough to make you wanna bust that rough stuff
So here's a puff for my fake homeyz
[inhales] you don't know me
[DJ Scratch scratches]
[3rd Eye]
Here's a puff for my fake homeyz
You don't know me
Here's a puff for my fake homeyz
Fuck all the backstabbers
[PMD]
Hit Squad is in the house, kid
[3rd Eye]
3rd Eye, 3rd Eye
[PMD]
Yeah kid
[PMD]
Yea, Check 1,2, One time for ya mind
2 times for ya mind, PMD going braceline, bassline
Prodigy, Hit Squad and the Mobb. 9-7, check it out
Hey, yo, six foot and change, I still do my thang
You niggaz is game, blacker skills wit the hand swing
Time to black out, you act out, blow ya back out
The P wit the no-look pass like Iverson and Stackhouse
[Prodigy]
Hey, yo, painkiller key raps, get dope off of this here shit
Writing prescriptions for your addiction
We doing it, yo, P, this shit is off the meter
Neither him nor his man neither can top this shit hit
[Chorus: PMD]
It's the P-double E-M-D-E-E(yo, it's the P)
E-double pushing up lex bubble [x3 1/2]
Check P, the rap vet, freak the rap tech
Peep the black tech, ass bent, run, some will leave your back wet
So Pmd and Prodigy will hit you hard
Lace P wit the plan and let the Mobb do the phucking job
[Prodigy]
I kick, shit that you can feel like you're holding it
Grab a hold of this, rip tight like it's your last bit
Futuristic, hi-tech computer chip
Lyric that's beyond the year 2000
The dominant, confident niggaz is conquering
Overminding, my mom done did it again
Vertical rap, straight up and down this wolf pack
Or go at the whole globe, attack the map
Ambassador P, we strengthly strip his sleeves of his stripes
Granted for the rest of your life
Now you can sit back and cherish the time that we spent
The foul memory of ?timbos, bison less?
[PMD]
Now who's the kid claiming death wit the S on his chest
Smoking cess, sounding like Meth, i guess he need press
And yes, he must be insane wit no brain, on that cocaine
Lying on your dick, saying you hit Jane
The Punk Doctor, I gotcha, so get the boz-ile
You little hostile, you end up missing like Hoffa
My style's proper, extraordinaire, quite rare
Excellent to the ear, so kid, you never compare
[PMD:]
Pass the callers, w'sap with the small talk
You know 's the PMD flips it crazy smoth
Like the moon walk
So kill the boom and chill
Nigga save the thief act
In effect like Das best belive that
P will bring it, swing it, keeps my shit hardcore
Plus next for Mic Doc, another world tour
From ghetto to ghetto
Borough to borough
Niggaz pump my sounds loud cause my shit's thero
Hello, where is the P channel zero
In the zone trapped off, kid can't hear you
[Chorus: x4]
Back up, boy... hand motion
In the zone trapped off, kid can't hear you
[PMD:]
Let get back to the underground someone is claimin my sound
Catch the beat down
Or that other kid, yeah yeah, he caught the Greyhound
Outta here, gone, still pumpin rap songs
To the mic wreck, 1, 2 to the break of dawn
To my people uptown, downtown, eastcoast, westcoast
Nuff props to Boogie Down
Spark the L, charge the brain cell, hell
No time to dwell back live like the third rail
I got it in me I know I do not like the? rules
He sweats, tryna climb he hits the turbo boost
Sways can't fade P lacks the 12 gauge
Peace, I'm Audi 5thou' still on a rampage
[Chorus: x4]
Back up, boy... hand motion
In the zone trapped off, kid can't hear you
[PMD:]
Moms not feelin well, and I'm feelin it
So step the fuck back
She sayed produce that funk and kick that I'll rap
You know what you made off
Didn't raise no slouch nigga
Look out for yours, focus on a real picture
So strong, gave me the strenght to pump this rap songs
And now I'm bringin it back
In his brothers arm, the dangerous
Ain't no taimin this, far from famous kid
I'm just and underground rapper servin a hard bid
In the industry
You gotta be kidding me
They wanna be, they wanna be like P, MD
But they can't be
Be studyin this for 8 years now I gotta sceene
Some MC's come, and seen some MC's go
Why they choose the crosover, cause they blind and don't know
Big up to all new jacks
Follow you first notion
Chump niggaz:
[Chorus: x4]
Back up, boy... hand motion
In the zone trapped off, kid can't hear you
Back up, boy... hand motion
Back up, boy... hand motion
Back up, boy... hand motion
Back up, boy... hand motion
Check Check It Out Check it Out
Check Check It Out Check it Out
PMD's in tha house
Check Check It Out Check it Out
Hit Squad In the house
Check Check It Out Check it Out
Word Em' up, Blackzone, Hitsquad
[Verse 1:]
Grab ya head nigga, start bobbin it, the underground's
bein shook down PMDs robbin it, so crack all gold yeah,
and spark the phillie blunts, im chumpin niggaz down
takin minds on a manhunt (po-po kid), dont get caught
up in the gunsmoke, its rap artin season, and im blastin
niggaz who show-off, with that pretty-boy R&B; rap, back
with a hiphop track, say that, cause thats whack, and
niggaz aint trying to hear that, cant get sidetracked
so whats the impact, to get the bozack, and mind yo
beeswax, still in the game with somethin Jane.
[Chorus]
Went solo on that ass when i feel the fame
(I saw it cummin, thats why i went solo)
[x5]
[Verse 2:]
Whats this? another funky hit from the squad kid? no time
for comebacks black, time to run shit, so pass that
microphone, plug it into the soundboard,scratch cuts the
wax, chop it like a chainsaw, so who's callin my name?
been doin this since 87' cause this is my thing, can't
forget Jane, haircut, like Anita Baker, never seen no
one faker, to make the mistake-a, tryin to push up
on a brother, who brainstorms, you know i'm physco crazy
like that man nor--man bates, wait, excuse me for the
(???) that makes me hesitate, no time to translate,gotta
go kid, time to motivate, back to the blackzone, cuz
theres no thing.
[Chorus: x5]
[Verse 3:]
There's somethin with all these corny niggaz, makin
faces, on my TV screen, cant shoot this dude, cause if
I do it makes 19, no time for the crime scene, grab my
Bozack, and my mic, time to beam, back to the underground
hold more beat-downs, drop some ill shit like this, for
the niggaz to leave round town HARDCORE, hittin switches
in the '6-4, 3 foot motion, or the benz with the 4-door
troopin past the local spot, niggaz wanna act up, and
niggaz catch the speedknot, trying to promote viloence,
but thats the way it is, the code of the ghetto aint got
nothin to do with showbiz, remember that, yea, still
bustin brains, YEA
[chorus: x4]
Hit squad in the house, PMD records in effect
24-hour representin
went solo on that ass when i feel the fame
Big shot out to KRS-one
[PMD]
Word 'em up, check it out
PMD's in the house
Nine-four, you know the flavor..
Mmm, funk mode
Word 'em up
So whattup whattup? Yeah it's time to get down
You ready to chill, so turn up the sounds
Whether it's in your Walkman - or your stereo I hope you hear me though
Bobbin that head, jammin to the radio
cause they're playin your song
The weekend's here, party's on - payday HEY
Big up to the DJ's who spinnin the jams
Mix shows on Friday - cold kickin
It's Saturday's, it's hip-hop
Brothers choppin on the one and two
Non-stop.. the violence, and gun shootin
It's time to unite; no time for losin
or takin steps backwards - that's not the way
Leave the stress at the office, it'll be there Monday
But for now it's your time
Time to regroup, get a piece of mind..
.. and disconnect from the madness, called time-out
Take it from the PMD on the rap route
The golden voice, word biz
Live and direct - OOP, there it is, time to..
Swing your own thing (word em up)
Swing your own thing (word)
Swing your own thing
Swing your own thing
Well guess who? Step aside, it's the Squad crew
Airtight, you know the evil that men do
Back for more.. in nine-four
Format's hardcore, steppin through like Gigantor
Who is he? PMD
Set for funk mode, it's time to par
Oh yeah back in there, throw your hands up in the air
Wave em side to side, like you just don't care
So fellas yell HOE, and ladies scream out
Don't dwell in the past, live for now
Back on the prowl, thick eyebrows, style's wild
Grab the head, and just..
Swing your own thing (word em up)
Swing your own thing (word)
Swing your own thing
Swing your own thing
So if you're feelin good - let me hear you say REAL good
Whether you washin your car, cruisin through the neighborhood
or playin basketball - dunkin on brothers
Coolin witcha sis, respectin your mother
That's the way it should be - family
Not mass hysteria, stress, or poverty
Four hundred years, we almost there
Just look at the TV, we everywhere
Sports lawyers doctors - music
Everyone has a brain - it's time to use it
So grab that head - prepare for the future
Cause that's the only way out
Sway; gotta..
Swing your own thing (word up)
Swing your own thing
Swing your own thing
Swing your own thing
Swing your own thing..
Swing your own thing..
Swing your own thing..
Swing, swing, swing, swing
Them niggaz knew that shit before it happened
Word 'em up
[Chorus: x4]
[PMD:] So while you stepin thru... Steppin' thru hardcore
[Das EFX:] Kickin that styles for 96 niggaz back to the...
[PMD:]
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone, word is bond
I brainstorm, trippin of flashbacks like Vietman
I stay armed
Code red mayday, Hit Squad nigga
PMD is back oh shit, yeah it's pay day
Oh yeah Hosey I make rhymes sway and I don't play
Or I'm so so
Niggaz down with?
Touche hey, ya betta keep ya eye on a birdie
Word G that's opsurd see
It's far from "baby come back"
Like the Be Gees so you can run run
But you can't hide or slide
Locked in, ain't fire, bullseye
You see me close that's more props
You fly guy, big super star takes nose dive
With no life jacket, pump like swaket
Check it out now
I kick the habit
Bring it to me now
It's 94 no backstabin
[Chorus x4]
[PMD:] So while you stepin thru... Steppin' thru hardcore
[Das EFX:] Kickin that styles for 96 niggaz back to the...
[PMD:]
So what you sayin, you hear my records playin
Funk smellin bad, like a tooth decayin'
Bring it to me now
Cool
Pack tools, truck jewels, niggaz stuck in the pit stop
With flex and no view
So if you down with the Hit Squad
Say Hit Squad and my dick 's hard, I'm charged
Tryna walk down the rap yard
So bring it on flex, no check?, might wreck to deep the half step?
Tryna step, get souplexed word to Das EFX
Of course I'm back to get payed
Stickin hard like D-backs and the rappers in the gator raid
Yeah punk, settin the tone for the rap game
Niggaz claimin fame now that is a damn shame
Out the open like the US without tennis
I pump rhymes like niggz pump iron and Guiness
You get flood
I keep my shit raw
So while you steppin thru, steppin thru hardcore
[Chorus x4]
[PMD:] So while you stepin thru... Steppin' thru hardcore
[Das EFX:] Kickin that styles for 96 niggaz back to the...
[PMD:]
It's the 'ol I'll phill, double flow spill Jill
OK to mill, to give a read on the rap field
Kids must see, yeah so daddy will kill
Any pool party'n motherfuckin'
Yeah sleep, get your head crushed
Hit Squad mad tight kid
94, no bumrushin'
Strictly hear to cool out and turn the party's out
Hardcore underground
That's what is all about
Not with the does, hoes and limos
That's not my ammo
My ammo 's a pro
Check the demo
[Das EFX:] Kickin that styles for 96 niggaz back to the...
[Chorus x4]
[PMD:] So while you stepin thru... Steppin' thru hardcore
[Das EFX:] Kickin that styles for 96 niggaz back to the...
"Niggaz look shady"
[PMD]
It's nine-four, P's back in the door
Representin - hardcore, steppin through with the Squad tour
Mad brothers, know the lingo
And funky b-boy niggaz, they thumpin the single
From L.A. to Detroit, to Chi-Town
New York to Philly (Jersey) all around
cause it's strictly underground when I'm troopin with my sound
So save the temptation, money keep the limos
Cause that's not hip-hop, that's a fashion show
"How low can you go?"I'll tell you
?? dissin mad niggaz goin solo
Stop the press what is this? It's not rap kid
Bust it it's Shadë Business
Chorus: PMD and DJ Scratch doing samples (*some unidentified*)
"People round town talkin this and that.."
[PMD]Shadë Business
"People round town talkin this and that.."
[PMD]Shadë Business
"People round town talkin this and that.."
[PMD]Shadë Business
"People round town talkin this and that.."
[PMD]
So stop the press, no contest, no stress buddha sess
Yeah still snappin necks for some live effects
So where you comin from? The Boondocks, where my tune knocks
Pass the tinnocks to bust they loads like nine glocks
Yeah so what you sayin Hobbes?
Niggaz flock from blocks when I'm blowin up the spot
Nuff props to the moms and pops
at the one stop (what?) the violence, and racism
Black on black crime cause we're killin our brothers and sisters
Oh what tit for tat, he took this, she took that
Seems like you're guilty - until proven innocent with no facts
Some find this hard to comprehend this
It's far from equality - swing it P, it's Shadë Business
Chorus
[PMD]
Enough with all the he say she say and nosy neighbors
You wanna do me a favor? Don't do me no favors
Cause nowadays "Niggaz look shady"
Fightin over the money and power, but can't take it to the grave see
I guess not -
- and that's called ignorance and it's ruinin hip-hop
So brothers wanna mess around - we mess around
And if brothers wanna "get down, get down" then we get down
cause PMD's bringin it swingin it
I hear my people callin me, and my fans singin it
Big up to Michael Jackson, and Michael Jordan
Iron Mike Tyson, Tupac Shakur an'
Flavor Flav, can't forget Snoop troop
I'm audi ghost, Swayze like kazoo
Shadë Business
[PMD]
Shhh, I hear my people callin me,
"Where is he? Where is he where is he?
Where's the PMD?"
I'm layin low, strapped with ammo
Set for funk mode, ask your man though
Who raps rhymes hold it steady - like a pilot in the cockpit
Parrish Smith go out - nah that's bullshit
on another nigga for tryin to take mines, catch the flatline
Comin through time to breathe on the mainline
Airtight, no time to stall, you tell me..
"Yo nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
CHK-CHK-POW, move from the gate now" -> Raekwon
"Yo nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
CHK-CHK-POW, move from the gate now" -> Raekwon
[PMD]
Some say the Wu fly, what's a rap star?
A nigga who get props and he's clocked like radar
Can't fake moves - people lookin at cha
twenty-four oh seven - slip and they gat cha
Snatch that behind up - clip that ass with handcuffs
Jail cell for the niggaz who like to get rough
And most niggaz get rough, cause in beef we trust
Another man damn kid you smokin angel dust
I'm snatchin props, blastin niggaz like RoboCop
Catch the speed-knot, tryin to mic block Mic Doc
Chill Hobbes - I told you I roll with the Hit Squad
Stomp like the Gobots
But some niggaz ain't hearin me so I make it clearer see
you can't fade the nigga who flips words - like Swayze
and Audi 5000, still housin, I'm out an'..
"Yo nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
CHK-CHK-POW, move from the gate now" -> Raekwon
"Yo nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
CHK-CHK-POW, move from the gate now" -> Raekwon
[PMD]
So turn this mic off so I can kick the wicked shit
Type of wicked shit, that make niggaz grab clips
But hold it chill - cause a jail cell's bullshit
Must grab the head - no time to be slippin jack
The world done shifted - niggaz can't see that
But some do - and they make power moves
Playin for life - can't lose, too many dues paid
Mayday, in the game everyday tryin to find a better way
yet the world keeps slippin
So I keep movin not tryin to lose an'
big up to all posse plus Crips and crews in
every ghetto - keep your shit thorough
And if they ask have you seen ? "Hell no"
"Yo nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
CHK-CHK-POW, move from the gate now" -> Raekwon
"Yo nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
Yea what up, 1 time, 1 time, PMD, Mic Doc
9-7, 2 thous and beyond, check it, check it
Step aside, peep the wide body, kicking shit like karate
Or catch me on a Harley, but puff like the Marley's
Do narly, tims and rims wit the fat knobbies
The rap teflon don here to crash a party
You know the status, who the baddest wit this apparatus
Who's the fattest, who gives a phuck cuz it don't matter
Always rock shit, high in the cockpit
Infrared lock and hit, terminate the target
Cuz when I put it down, clown, I don't phuck around
How you sound, act like you know or catch a beatdown
(Chorus)
It's the Microphone Doctor, back making housecalls
Many often wonder is MD paid(4x)
Got more stripes than Colin Powell, ?stoned and towel?, I keep my shit rugged
Thuggish rugged, you'se laced wit ice nuggets
Who you shittin me. lyrics spittin and Squad still hittin
Track flippin, we're nippin, politicin
Niggaz trippin, slippin like a transmission
Or blown gasket, you bastard
You get your ass kicked, tuxedo wit the casket
Blowing steam, one half of the dream team
Cream fiends hit 16 on the rhyme scene
Keep it off the meter, rub it wit the dark Caesar
Blow like ether, Grim like the phucking Reaper
When I act out, MC's back out
Pull the mac out, go the distance in the rap out
Chorus
Swinging back, get you dome cracked in combat
Full contact on impact when P react
Keep it cool at all times, bust rhyme
Get mine, black Einstein wit basslines
From hoodies to skullies, skullies down to tims
I'm all in black Benz, trees and trojans
Niggaz frozen, like manic, it's phucking posing
On display, no place, he foreign attache
Case, Hit Squad lace the place
Set the pace like O.J. in the Bronco chase
[Intro: bell ringing]
Good evening ladies and gentlemen
This is your main event of the evening
[PMD]
Yeah, check it, one time, one time, one time
PMD and B-Real, Cypress Hill, Hit Squad
Yeah, you niggas know the deal
Check it, check it, comin' through, uh, Hit Squad
[PMD]
Sirens blare, niggas wildin' out over chairs
The men here, so sealable doors, so stand clear
Breath takin', niggas rollin' up with the gat shakin'
No puss here, brothers sadly mistaken
The chains breakin', back to check the rules you fakin'
That's violation, like a Muslim eatin' bacon
Much got the beat breakin', faggots niggas instigatin'
I'm runnin' with the law while you triple six in your Satan
Comin' in blastin', with no maskin', niggas askin'
"How he lastin'?" Jewels, with the tool flashin'
Blacked out now I'm lacked in, I'ma second win
More oxygen, niggas on my jock again
[B-Real]
Runnin' with the PMD, universal, no rehearsal
controversial, no commercial
All rough and rugged, you buckin' off at the straight thuggin'
Audio thumpin' and head bumpin'
Motherfuckers wanna hear somethin', CD's jumpin'
Thumpin' the ground all of a sudden
In the mist of the smoke I shut it - all competition
Set the condition to submission
From the contact I'm sparkin' at brain cells
through songs and magazines and through the e-mail
I'm worldwide, six side, killafornia highs
No time, define, no wolfs, we need the blind
to the slaughter, I'm baptizin' you through the water
Pure hip-hop and D makes you grow like weed, proceed
That's right, Soul Assassins, the Hit Squad, Cypress Hill
All up in your dome piece
[Outro: PMD]
...keep the house bumpin', we be the champions
Get the announcements, keep the whole house bumpin'
You want somethin', we the champions
Keep the house thumpin', get announcements
Let them know that you won bitch, we be the champions
We be the champions, we be the champions
[ 8-Off ]
...niggas was rhymin, man, at this fashion show shit
Knaw I mean, some R&B; niggas
[ PMD ]
What happened to the beats and rhymes?
[ 8-Off ]
Word up, son
Knaw I mean?
[ following excerpts from _Scarface_ ]
[ Frank Lopez ]
"You're makin moves on your own, huh?"
[ Tony Montana ]
"I got ears, you know?
I hear things.
You know?"
[ Frank Lopez ]
"What do you hear about [Name] or the Diaz brothers?
What about them?
What about Gaspar Gomez?
What is he gonna do when you start movin 2000 ki's..."
[ Tony Montana ]
"Fuck Gaspar Gomez and fuck the fuckin Diaz brothers!
Fuck em all!
I bury those cockaroaches!"
"What they ever do for us?"
[ CHORUS: 8-Off ]
Don't kick jokes, cause this ain't the right time
Disrespect, you regret it for your lifetime
Fuckin with Pee, only thing you got to do is shine
Get yours, kid, just chill, cause I'ma get mine
[ Tony Montana ]
"Look Frank, time has come
We gotta expand
The whole operation..."
[ PMD ]
Yo, business is business
Follow the whiz kid
Flip the rap, get the fat crib
Duck or get blasted by the Squad Mig
I'm not your nig, clockin 7 digit figs, you dig?
I want that ass, then my crew got dibs with the lids
Accurate rhymin type this is
You know what this is, I'm strictly biz while you ???
Tryin to mic-block the Mic-Doc, the Funk Zyklop
What you want, dun? This is my spot
Change what lock? Aiyo, you bound to catch a speed knot
Runnin with the dreadlock predators (Das EFX) real hip-hop
Caught in the death block, so what up, ack?
Beamin down, star-trekin niggas like Dr. Spock
[ Tony Montana ]
"Let's get this straight now:
I never fucked anybody over in my life didn't have it comin to.
You got that?
All I have in this world is my balls and my word.
And I don't break em for nobody.
Do you understand?
That piece of shit up there, I never liked him,
I never trusted him.
For all I know he had me set up,
And had my friend Angel Fernandez killed.
But that's history.
I'm here, he's not.
You wanna go out with me, you say it then.
You don't, then you make a move."
[ CHORUS ]
[ PMD ]
The human generator, MC slash eliminator
Irritator, PMD kicks the rhyme data
Blowin up Boondox Records, so check it
Respected, paid mad dues, now watch me wreck shit
So peep this out, paw, rugged and raw
Didn't see what you thought you saw
Now you're gettin floored
Like the pedal to the metal
I'm hot like a tea kettle
PMD wins the gold medal
No time to lamp, crack a forty, get amped
Cause niggas wanna test, we get wild like boot camp
In the Garden, fuck the stardom, I beg your pardon
Catch a bitch slippin, knock out the whole bottle
I'm too rugged, steppin through drippin with ice nuggets
You can't hang, my ???'s your fuckin album budget
You know my steez, four golds, EPMD
Fuck the break up, I'm gettin mines, gee
[ Frank Lopez ]
"Why the fuck would I hurt you?
I brought you in.
So we had a few differences, huh?
No big deal.
I gave you your start.
I was the one who believed in you!"
[ Tony Montana ]
"I stayed loyal to you.
I made what I could on the side,
But I never turned on you, Frank.
Never!
But you...
A man who ain't worth his word is a cockaroach."
Code red, code red
[PMD:]
Word 'em up
Check it out
Aiight, niggaz wanna check me
Bring it on
So turn up the sounds and let the amps crank
Who gives a motherfuck what the next men think
Don't blink or watch a mad crew sink
Or your bitch vink
Yeah so stop 'em like the Gobot
Just don't let you know hops
Or tryna traffic through my mind kid
My shit is top notch
Hop the rollers cop the Swatch watch
Get back to the Boondox
For a quick sec the camuflage
Sound crazy, foul and bizzare
I said to say shit, puffin blunts in my Lamborghini
[? ] to let you know
The damage will ruin your career to
Be fuckin around with slow pros
[Chorus: x4]
-... so back up or get smacked up-
-act up, ya punk niggaz... -
[PMD:]
It's like back to the ol I'll b-boy shit
Plug the microphone in a house party black, and drop I'll shit
Cause your style is the free style
Kinda buckwild style, you dropin the buck in the p-nile
I couldn't come slopy poppy
Brotha tryna mop P
To get prop, you get droped G
So back up or get smacked up
[Chorus: x3]
-act up, ya punk niggaz... -
-back up or get smacked up-
-act up, ya punk niggaz... -
[PMD:]
Niggaz that call me still can't see me
Had the flicker the groud to shut 'em down on the rap sceene
Got Swazye gone
Couldn't get this channel at the dick
Close call it the head trick, now I'm packin nine clip
To ease the conflict
S? slip, that's nonsense
Bust the drum kick squab in 94 another rap hit
So look around nigga it's sicker then quick sand
No time to get gun jammed, damn you simply don't slam
Sleapin on the sandman
Walk up in a yolk joke, getting grilled for the funk smoke
Now you ask pro fuckin with slow flow
So back up or get smacked up
[Chorus: x3]
-act up, ya punk niggaz... -
-back up or get smacked up-
[PMD]
So let's get it on - like Marvin Gaye; hey
is that that nigga, from "You a Customer"? You're fuckin A
is for apple, J's for jack black
B is for bozack, and N is for the nutsac
(What's J for?) The J's for juggle these, please
PMD bust rhymes like niggaz bust seeds
with zero, that's not the channel I be watchin
Niggaz clockin, no time for stoppin so I keep rockin
Big up to the hip-hop, be-bop heads bop
Non-stop up the block systems knock
Girlies jock I'm locked in funk mode
Peace to my pops; cause it's
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Scandalous; Swiss Miss still funkin shit
Uhh - slow down baby, can't handle it
The way you're movin your thang, you got it goin on
Time to pop the Sean Dom
Take a swig of it - yeah drink it like a forty-oh
No champagne glasses, that's out the window
Push up and get my swerve on, take me there baby
Aww shit, PMD's gone
(Where you goin P?) Deeper and deeper
My mind's gettin stronger, she got me in the sleeper
Almost there, relax, just like I figured
Strapped down, still on the lookout for the gold digger
Blazin figure, sexin like Holly
Hoes blunts and puff the ganja like Bob Marley
She's hardcore, ride it like an outlaw
Workin it, pullin with the lockjaw
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
I'm in the war zone - far away from home, no microphone
Just biters and tombstones on the real holmes
It's do or die, no fly guy, don't ask why
Rap is outta control, don't bungee jump or hangglide
Time to slip (slide) so save the lie
Hit Squad won't die, them niggaz multiply
On the scene blowin up, sho' nuff
Wild haircut, what? Don't give a fuck
This is me, peace to EPMD
Took a break in nine-three now I'm back see
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
Back to the rapper makin hands clap
(Respect hip-hop and the fans black)
