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Verse One: Erick Sermon, Parrish Smith |
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The employees of the year, yeah we're back to work |
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I took time off, while all the rappers got jerked |
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Due to the fact that they're wack and their tracks |
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Have to go back and stack 'cause they lack |
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The ingredients . . . EPMD and Scratch for that . . . |
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*DJ Scratch cuts and scratches* |
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Yo, I'm the hip-hopper, plus the show shocker |
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Down with MD, yes the microphone doctor |
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One wrecks, the other destroys |
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And if you think that you're ready to mess (kill the noise) |
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We don't play when it's time to slay |
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I take a cut from my homey, yo, then I lay |
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back and mack and all the rhymes I pack |
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And wait for a sucker to jump and then attack |
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Well, I'm known to be the master in the MC field |
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No respect in eighty-seven, eighty-eight you kneel |
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Cause I produce and get loose, when it's time to perform |
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Wax a sucker like Mop & Glow (that's word born) |
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Smacked a second time, but on a different assignment |
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And do a sucker new jack who needs a rappin alignment |
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Cause I'm the cream of the crop when it's time to do a show |
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Girlies on my jock for my dope intro |
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As I glance at E-Double, kickin microphone wrecker |
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Turn on my cordless, sayin mic checka |
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To the ladies . . . and all party goers |
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Some call me freak, and others slow flower |
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Brothers on my jock, for the way I hold a piece of steel |
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So what you sayin? |
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So what you sayin? |
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Verse Two: Erick Sermon, Parrish Smith |
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Puttin heads to bed, straight out the box |
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MC's, are jumpin out shoes and socks |
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I'm not playin, understand what I'm sayin |
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Catch a sucker in my way, and I'm slayin |
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Takin no shorts, so I'm vital sign |
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You can tell by my lines that I'm gettin mines |
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in eighty-nine, because I'm fine as wine |
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Sit back and recline, watch the sun shine |
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Take a stroll, listen to rock and roll |
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Catch a flick at the movies, dance a bowl |
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What I chose I refuse to slack while I'm back |
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I take a chance jack, so I must attack |
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With knick knack paddywack so I won't lack |
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Oh my style is def, and as deadly as crack |
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While I'm slayin must explain, a sucker is the lame |
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Battle in the trenches where the funky be playin |
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Cause with a partner like E Double don't come a dime a dozen |
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A kin not blood related, but you can call us cousins |
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Cause as we climb the charts, better known as statistics |
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Brothers on my jock while I'm kickin ballistics |
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Droppin hits like I'm Housin, You Gots Ta Chill, and more |
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The proof is in the pudding (yo check the Billboard) |
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People round town talkin this and that |
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Of how we sound like the R, and our music was wack |
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Dropped the album Strictly Business and you thought we was bold |
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Thirty days later, the LP went gold |
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So what you sayin |
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So what you sayin |
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Verse Three: Erick Sermon, Parrish Smith |
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Now party people it's time for the exquisite |
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No knock knock who that over there or who is it |
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It's the E-R-I-C-K, yes the Boy Wonder |
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No fouls no bleeps no bloops or no blunders |
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So hot, so you can say I'm blazin |
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Or Luther Vandross says, yo I am |
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"Sooooooo amazing, and I've been waiting" |
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For a sucker to attack yo me the E-Double |
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Cuz me and PMD is like the funky fresh couple |
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I fight fire with fire, that's why most retired |
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And when we needed a piss boy, you was hired |
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Cause you was Memorex, for that style that we was bringin |
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In an all out battle, P comes out swingin |
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Cause I'm just that type of brother that's out to get mines |
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And if the odds against me, I still drop lines |
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and get mines on time that's why most resign |
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Sit in my LazyBoy chair, relax my head and recline |
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Sip a Pepsi or Coke, with a twist of lime |
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Or crack a forty-oh, and then I go for mine |
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So what you sayin |
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So what you sayin |