Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Actin' Up, artist - EPMD.
Date of issue: 04.02.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Actin' Up |
When one-two starts actin up |
Homey duck, homey duck, homey duck, homey duck |
BLAOW! |
Somebody shoulda told that dude |
BLAOW! |
Somebody shoulda told that dude |
«One, two, three, four, five» |
Oh-six through oh-eight, this is oh-nine live |
And for the new year I pack a chrome fo'-five |
And keep it straight raw like Shady fo'-five |
It’s I, youngest in charge, a.k.a. so fly |
Act up, I’m your neck like a fuckin bowtie |
Back up, show respect to the newest multi- |
-million sold, and that’s only in the N.Y. — OH! |
Get low when that kickback blow |
I put a X on you squares, call it tic-tac-toe |
Put a lil' tag on his toe |
I call it yeast infection faggot how I get that dough |
So who want beef, and I’mma shoot it 'til my shooter come through |
Hop out the Cougar put a hole in your medullah |
It’s mo' back at it I’m stoned like crack addicts |
Hocus pocus sayonara I’m gone — black magic |
+ (Parrish Smith) |
That EPMD we a hip-hop phenom' |
This style I birthed it, I am the mom |
The illest (Slow Flow) and the one-two |
(Without D.M.C. I’m who they Run to) |
Who they come to, to get their swag |
(I've been that little boy with the duffel bag) |
Ain’t anything changed, keep cash bags with me |
(I'm a threat, so I keep trash bags with me) |
Okay! |
Dem lay, and if dey dumpin |
Double pumpin shotgun action, who’s askin? |
YOUUUUUUUUUUUU~! |
(Can't be for real) |
(You eatin, but you ain’t finish your meal) |
Uhh, I’m the blueprint for those who can’t lose |
(I wrote them checks so I paid them dues) |
Yeah Sermon, who walked in my shoes? |
You better be Bigfoot (if not stay put) |
So I’m the future of this music, bet your life on that |
Since construction paper and Crayolas I’ve been writin raps |
So don’t confuse me with these bamas that, ain’t got no talent |
And just all of a sudden up and decide to rap |
Ain’t no disguisin that bullshit, they ride to that bullshit |
Who bought 'em that bullshit? |
Your mom and them? |
She probably mad, 'bout to whup your ass for not again |
But don’t feel bad, you just tryin to win |
Talkin 'bout designers and your diamonds what you drivin in |
And you ain’t even behind the wheel, go to the passenger side of it |
Tell me — why is that niggas do that? |
That nigga ain’t do that |
He lyin, he ain’t never lived through that |
Even people that know you hear you and be like «Who dat?» |
That nigga ain’t do that (uh-uh, I don’t believe him) |
I been knew that, been seen through that |
Hear you yappin 'bout some weight you never sold |
People you ain’t never shoot at |
Take it down, let’s see whatever fairy tales you bring back |
(You do got a good imagination though, I can tell you that) |
This force is all boss, to fakers of all fakers |
Just face it, you all talk and it’s PHONY BABY |