| It’s like this y’all IT’S LIKE THAT Y’ALL
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| It’s like this y’all IT’S LIKE THAT Y’ALL
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| It’s like this y’all IT’S LIKE THAT Y’ALL
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| This is the year for the barbaric and the cats with skills
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| Underground with the hoodie, fuck keepin it real
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| While you was pissin in your bed, we was makin a mill'
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| Got up, with Erick Sermon, dropped «You Gots 2 Chill»
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| Then niggas bugged, turned hardcore b-boy, slash thug
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| Givin fake love, with fake hugs, to fake thugs
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| With fake mugs, runnin they mouth with the place bugged
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| And caught a slug, and no one see nothin but mask and gloves
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| Aiyyo likewise I come in strong with no disguise, ruthless
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| It’s me, transformed I’m Eazy-E
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| Past the point of rockin the joint
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| I’m blowin the spot, wreckin the scene with my team
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| NFL: Niggas For Life, so feel that
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| I see a few clowns, so where’s the steel at
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| Me and my boys are ready, aim that and hold it steady
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| For those who dream, believe I’m Freddie
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| Now yo, if you got more dollars in your pocket
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| Put a peace sign in the air if you from the South Bronx
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| And let me hear you say
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| Hell yeah HELL YEAH
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| Say hell yeah HELL YEAH
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| Aiyyo, I grab the mic and strike, explode and ignite
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| Off the head, reminscin about some shit last night
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| No dough, in the pocket but that shit’s alright
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| And these faggots, always stress me so I keep my shit tight
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| Who am I? |
| The cat to put that ass on standby
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| Fuck your sister, then chill with you, then tell her man hi
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| Then start stalkin, three point shot like Hershey Hawkins
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| Takin it back to the Seventy-Sixers like Johnny Dawkins
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| Yo I come through camouflaged with the Squadron entourage
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| Lookin like ghetto superstars
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| EPMD’s the name, there’s no mistaken
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| I rob you for all you got, and keep takin
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| The blah-blah buck off like a wild Jamaican
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| Earthquakin and dominatin the situation
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| Yes on the scene, the duo, thorough
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| Lettin off, causin ruckus in five boroughs
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| Yo this shout out goes to Brownsville, youknowhatI’msayin?
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| On? |
| Avenue, Newport Garden Squadron
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| EPMD, youknowhatI’msayin?
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| To the Brentwood Posse, somebody just say
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| Make money money, make money money money
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| MAKE MONEY MONEY, MAKE MONEY MONEY MONEY
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| Everybody say make money money, make money money money
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| MAKE MONEY MONEY, MAKE MONEY MONEY MONEY
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| Yo, who grabs the mic and spit flows while you swing low
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| I’m high off the indo, but straight up, you gets no wins though
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| I like to ill, pop corks and watch the Mo' spill
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| Hundred dollar bills dippin po-nine while my niggas chill
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| Yo yoyoyoyoyoyoyoyo P chill chill chill
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| Niggas is in here fightin B
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| Yo lounge out man, god damn, niggas is always fuckin up shit
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| Just put some shit on they can dance to then |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song House Party , by - EPMD. Song from the album Out Of Business, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп