| Check it, uh-huh, YO
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| It’s E-Dub on the microphone
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| My style be Elektra, I’m the male Syl Rhome
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| Homes, walk around with forty-four chrome
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| On safety, spike the mic in the end zone
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| This here ain’t the average shit, you used to
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| Front, and automatic rounds, will shoot you
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| So knock it off, like Biggie Smalls said Duke you soft
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| Why you wanna fuck with the boss?
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| Where should I start? |
| Breakin' MC’s or shatterin' charts?
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| It’s Diablo, PMD Mic Doc with the purple heart
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| The go-getter, getter, get wit 'er, hit 'er-split 'er
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| Front and back, and if she wit it, straight in the shitter
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| So heidi heidi heidi hydro, pack gats and ammo
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| Funky Piano, van like the fuckin'
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| With more cheese than Lambeau, more heat than Rambo
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| Break down dismantle when I scramble
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| I just get down, and I go for mines
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| Say check 1, 2 -- and run down the line
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| (Inclined to shine) with techs and (forty-four mags and nines)
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| Don’t get too close because you might get shot
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| Uhh, yo, ey, and yo
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| EPMD, fuckin' with us is bad news
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| Me and you got different views
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| What you might say is dope, I say’s not
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| What I might call whack, you’ll call hot
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| The best thing for you, is to think and hope
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| Or get choked, and hung with The Velvet Rope
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| Cause you too theatrical, mess around
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| And end up smackin' you, jackin' you, attackin' you
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| That’s why it’s crucial, so stay neutral to collect the cash
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| Double beaucoup, just rippin' up mics, is what my crew do
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| Whatever suits you, pull out the burner, fuck the shoot through
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| Roadblocks and smear campaigns, with the two-two
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| Or tech nine, that’ll chew, through your waistline
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| I’m accurate, don’t waste mine, spit on baseline
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| Run with the unseen potential to be on Dateline
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| I don’t fake mine, you blaze crazy, while I pace mine
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| Yeah, now why y’all wanna mess with the vets?
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| We’ve been doin' this shit, since Dear Yvette, check
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| I make shit that make you wanna smack your producer
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| And ice grill him, and make you wanna kill him dead
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| And walk around leakin', in the bed for the weekend
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| For playin' with the last Mohican
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| — that's fuck you in Puerto Rican
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| Keep quiet when you hear grown men speakin'
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| Or get smacked, this ain’t no game, the shit is serious
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| Delerious, that’s how we leave cats and niggas curious
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| The true legend, got caught shit you better call Kevin
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| Big like Dog 40 and the Dutch from the 7−11
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| I’m danger like Norris the Texas Ranger
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| The mic strangler, PMD, the fuckin' Head Banger
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| Mo' skills fo' real for them cats that kill
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| Pump a nine on the reg behind penitentiary steel |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Check 1,2, artist - EPMD. Album song Out Of Business, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп