You Gots 2 Chill '97 Lyrics
| Song | You Gots 2 Chill '97 |
| Artist | EPMD |
| Album | Back In Business |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Sermon, Smith, Troutman | |
| Verse one: erick sermon | |
| As I step to the mic with the b-boy stance, | |
| To the braveheart m.c.'s I wouldn't take a chance, | |
| Keep quiet while the m.c. rap | |
| And if you disrespect me, it's the big payback | |
| The E Double E is my name, I spell, | |
| Thanks to the clientel my squad rocks well, | |
| I'm in your hood, comin through like mud | |
| Chromed out, beamed out, in a all black truck | |
| You a player, what team you wit? | |
| I got major chips, I push the flyest whips | |
| Got the flyest chics, my outfits be freshly dipped | |
| No matter what the steez, I'm equipped | |
| Verse two: pmd | |
| Well my name is M.D., I'm known as the motivator, | |
| Funky beat maker, new jack terminator, | |
| enjoy to destroy, because your rhyme's a toy | |
| Never sweatin no click - why p? - cause I'm a b-boy | |
| When we on the scene, we always rock the spot, | |
| The green-eyed bandit, scratching mic doc, | |
| In the beginning, we had to let the world know | |
| Now, EPMD is clockin all the dough, | |
| Sit back and relax of course the biz phat, | |
| T.V. wit the phone in the back | |
| Always calm under pressure, no need to act ill | |
| Listen when I tell you boy, you gots to chill | |
| Verse three: erick sermon | |
| I be the fly rhyme maker, female heart-breaker, the dude | |
| Want to play me and my crew, that's rude, | |
| I'm dope when I get down to the beat, | |
| I'm raw, I keep it hardcore for the streets | |
| My track's a miracle drug for thugs in this club | |
| (p) yo e, I remember when they used to be scrubs, what up? | |
| I'm the big bear, some of y'all are baby cubs, | |
| Talkin large money when I see your bank stubs, | |
| I take control of your body and soul | |
| Pack heat in my pants when it's time to roll | |
| Verse four: pmd | |
| Well it's P-Double E-M-D-e-e, | |
| Here to bless the track or flip the flow wit E | |
| When we touch the microphone, no doubt, we always shine | |
| Jewels and rhymes, settin traps and land mines, | |
| Did thousand shows faced many places, | |
| EPMD is back, and yo, throw the tape in | |
| Cause when we come around, we always come wit the flavor | |
| Underground hardcore funk, than what we gave you | |
| Or give you, ayyio what's next on the menu, | |
| Business to take 2's Stadium and venues, | |
| Wit E, and I'm the microphone doctor | |
| And the capital E, capital P, | |
| Capital M, D, it's no doubt, the world shocker | |
| Hit squad, def squad, yeah we both get ill, | |
| so believe me when I tell You boy, you gots to chill | |
| Verse five: erick sermon | |
| Yo, I'm in the house now, | |
| Dudes wit ice grills, raise they eyebrow, amazed like wow, | |
| E and P return like D, last dragon | |
| To show m.c. just what's happening, | |
| I gets busy and that's an natural fact, | |
| I'm like Zorro: I mark and E on your back, | |
| worse than that, I clown those wannabe gangstas | |
| Say somethin to them and run right through them | |
| Verse six: pmd | |
| I'm makin crazy g's, politicin on my mobile phone, | |
| D E double about the microphone, | |
| cause we're the funky rhyme maker, puffing ? gon shit? faders, | |
| the one who rocks the fisherman hat | |
| I grab the mic and make the crowd react, | |
| We keep the money stackin, fingers snappin, toes tappin, | |
| And when it's time to roll, uzi patrol still packin, | |
| EPMD, the mic's are only friend, | |
| Took a break for a while and now we back again, | |
| So if you think about gamblin, you better come prepared | |
| EPMD is takin all the shares, you gots to chill |
| zuo ci : Sermon, Smith, Troutman | |
| Verse one: erick sermon | |
| As I step to the mic with the bboy stance, | |
| To the braveheart m. c.' s I wouldn' t take a chance, | |
| Keep quiet while the m. c. rap | |
| And if you disrespect me, it' s the big payback | |
| The E Double E is my name, I spell, | |
| Thanks to the clientel my squad rocks well, | |
| I' m in your hood, comin through like mud | |
| Chromed out, beamed out, in a all black truck | |
| You a player, what team you wit? | |
| I got major chips, I push the flyest whips | |
| Got the flyest chics, my outfits be freshly dipped | |
| No matter what the steez, I' m equipped | |
| Verse two: pmd | |
| Well my name is M. D., I' m known as the motivator, | |
| Funky beat maker, new jack terminator, | |
| enjoy to destroy, because your rhyme' s a toy | |
| Never sweatin no click why p? cause I' m a bboy | |
| When we on the scene, we always rock the spot, | |
| The greeneyed bandit, scratching mic doc, | |
| In the beginning, we had to let the world know | |
| Now, EPMD is clockin all the dough, | |
| Sit back and relax of course the biz phat, | |
| T. V. wit the phone in the back | |
| Always calm under pressure, no need to act ill | |
| Listen when I tell you boy, you gots to chill | |
| Verse three: erick sermon | |
| I be the fly rhyme maker, female heartbreaker, the dude | |
| Want to play me and my crew, that' s rude, | |
| I' m dope when I get down to the beat, | |
| I' m raw, I keep it hardcore for the streets | |
| My track' s a miracle drug for thugs in this club | |
| p yo e, I remember when they used to be scrubs, what up? | |
| I' m the big bear, some of y' all are baby cubs, | |
| Talkin large money when I see your bank stubs, | |
| I take control of your body and soul | |
| Pack heat in my pants when it' s time to roll | |
| Verse four: pmd | |
| Well it' s PDouble EMDee, | |
| Here to bless the track or flip the flow wit E | |
| When we touch the microphone, no doubt, we always shine | |
| Jewels and rhymes, settin traps and land mines, | |
| Did thousand shows faced many places, | |
| EPMD is back, and yo, throw the tape in | |
| Cause when we come around, we always come wit the flavor | |
| Underground hardcore funk, than what we gave you | |
| Or give you, ayyio what' s next on the menu, | |
| Business to take 2' s Stadium and venues, | |
| Wit E, and I' m the microphone doctor | |
| And the capital E, capital P, | |
| Capital M, D, it' s no doubt, the world shocker | |
| Hit squad, def squad, yeah we both get ill, | |
| so believe me when I tell You boy, you gots to chill | |
| Verse five: erick sermon | |
| Yo, I' m in the house now, | |
| Dudes wit ice grills, raise they eyebrow, amazed like wow, | |
| E and P return like D, last dragon | |
| To show m. c. just what' s happening, | |
| I gets busy and that' s an natural fact, | |
| I' m like Zorro: I mark and E on your back, | |
| worse than that, I clown those wannabe gangstas | |
| Say somethin to them and run right through them | |
| Verse six: pmd | |
| I' m makin crazy g' s, politicin on my mobile phone, | |
| D E double about the microphone, | |
| cause we' re the funky rhyme maker, puffing nbsp? gon shit? faders, | |
| the one who rocks the fisherman hat | |
| I grab the mic and make the crowd react, | |
| We keep the money stackin, fingers snappin, toes tappin, | |
| And when it' s time to roll, uzi patrol still packin, | |
| EPMD, the mic' s are only friend, | |
| Took a break for a while and now we back again, | |
| So if you think about gamblin, you better come prepared | |
| EPMD is takin all the shares, you gots to chill |
| zuò cí : Sermon, Smith, Troutman | |
| Verse one: erick sermon | |
| As I step to the mic with the bboy stance, | |
| To the braveheart m. c.' s I wouldn' t take a chance, | |
| Keep quiet while the m. c. rap | |
| And if you disrespect me, it' s the big payback | |
| The E Double E is my name, I spell, | |
| Thanks to the clientel my squad rocks well, | |
| I' m in your hood, comin through like mud | |
| Chromed out, beamed out, in a all black truck | |
| You a player, what team you wit? | |
| I got major chips, I push the flyest whips | |
| Got the flyest chics, my outfits be freshly dipped | |
| No matter what the steez, I' m equipped | |
| Verse two: pmd | |
| Well my name is M. D., I' m known as the motivator, | |
| Funky beat maker, new jack terminator, | |
| enjoy to destroy, because your rhyme' s a toy | |
| Never sweatin no click why p? cause I' m a bboy | |
| When we on the scene, we always rock the spot, | |
| The greeneyed bandit, scratching mic doc, | |
| In the beginning, we had to let the world know | |
| Now, EPMD is clockin all the dough, | |
| Sit back and relax of course the biz phat, | |
| T. V. wit the phone in the back | |
| Always calm under pressure, no need to act ill | |
| Listen when I tell you boy, you gots to chill | |
| Verse three: erick sermon | |
| I be the fly rhyme maker, female heartbreaker, the dude | |
| Want to play me and my crew, that' s rude, | |
| I' m dope when I get down to the beat, | |
| I' m raw, I keep it hardcore for the streets | |
| My track' s a miracle drug for thugs in this club | |
| p yo e, I remember when they used to be scrubs, what up? | |
| I' m the big bear, some of y' all are baby cubs, | |
| Talkin large money when I see your bank stubs, | |
| I take control of your body and soul | |
| Pack heat in my pants when it' s time to roll | |
| Verse four: pmd | |
| Well it' s PDouble EMDee, | |
| Here to bless the track or flip the flow wit E | |
| When we touch the microphone, no doubt, we always shine | |
| Jewels and rhymes, settin traps and land mines, | |
| Did thousand shows faced many places, | |
| EPMD is back, and yo, throw the tape in | |
| Cause when we come around, we always come wit the flavor | |
| Underground hardcore funk, than what we gave you | |
| Or give you, ayyio what' s next on the menu, | |
| Business to take 2' s Stadium and venues, | |
| Wit E, and I' m the microphone doctor | |
| And the capital E, capital P, | |
| Capital M, D, it' s no doubt, the world shocker | |
| Hit squad, def squad, yeah we both get ill, | |
| so believe me when I tell You boy, you gots to chill | |
| Verse five: erick sermon | |
| Yo, I' m in the house now, | |
| Dudes wit ice grills, raise they eyebrow, amazed like wow, | |
| E and P return like D, last dragon | |
| To show m. c. just what' s happening, | |
| I gets busy and that' s an natural fact, | |
| I' m like Zorro: I mark and E on your back, | |
| worse than that, I clown those wannabe gangstas | |
| Say somethin to them and run right through them | |
| Verse six: pmd | |
| I' m makin crazy g' s, politicin on my mobile phone, | |
| D E double about the microphone, | |
| cause we' re the funky rhyme maker, puffing nbsp? gon shit? faders, | |
| the one who rocks the fisherman hat | |
| I grab the mic and make the crowd react, | |
| We keep the money stackin, fingers snappin, toes tappin, | |
| And when it' s time to roll, uzi patrol still packin, | |
| EPMD, the mic' s are only friend, | |
| Took a break for a while and now we back again, | |
| So if you think about gamblin, you better come prepared | |
| EPMD is takin all the shares, you gots to chill |
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