| Relax while I tax, or you can just max
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| It really doesn’t matter, just stay the hell back
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| Poppin much junk, now the time has arose-n
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| I pick your card and your name has been chosen
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| Not all about? |
| line-opin? |
| or the stick up scene
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| «Let it flow!», you know what I mean
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| I’m the PMD, in the place to be
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| Clock rhymin and I lock ya, around the tick-tocker
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| Suckers steady clockin at the same time jockin
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| So a brother like MD takes a chill and lay low
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| Hypnotize your girl, while the funk flow
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| I got my girls to keep me pumpin, just like Getty
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| Use the same fuel as Mario Andretti
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| Kickin butt in the beginning all the way to the end
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| He drives, I rhyme no matter what we win
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| I come fully equipped, with the mic on my hip
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| So if you real, it’s no time to slip
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| Cause when it’s time for some action, check on the Mic-hael Jackson
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| Do a spin grab my nuts, and start taxin
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| Let the MC’s know that I shock like lightning
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| They mess with the E-Double-E, I sounds frightening
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| So let the funk flow
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| «Let it flow!»
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| Blastoff, and off you go
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| We usually take off fast, but now we take up slow
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| I would say Bon Voyage, but I’m not leavin
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| I don’t wanna go, but the girlies keep screamin
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| So I will stay, if that’s fine wit you
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| But I won’t leave, until the party is through
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| So while I’m here, let me get funky
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| Fiendin for the rhyme (like a four-deuce junkie)
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| Put the pep in your step, the stride in your glide
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| EPMD them goin nationwide
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| While the bass is steady pumpin and the beat be like thumpin
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| You lose your cool, then you start jumpin
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| You’re out of control, and I’m right on track
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| In seconds later I work the bone out your back
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| To mess with the two is to mess with hot water
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| We like to hang, torture then slaughter
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| All sucker MC’s, who proceed to intrude
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| E said (let em slide), say what but I’m in the mood
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| For dishin and dismissin, all those who don’t listen
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| Reel the ones whose in, as if we was fishin
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| So in eighty-eight, no wait I think it’s too late
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| Cause in eighty-seven, you bit on the old bait
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| So let the funk flow
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| «Let it flow!»
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| Lounge homeboy you in the danger zone
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| When the brother PMD is on the microphone
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| The slow momentum of my rhymes are divine and combined
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| To go off beat, and come back on time
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| To maintain and explain, but never sound the same
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| And when it comes to do this, very few remain
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| People on my jock for the rhymes I invent
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| Dip in a phone booth just like Clark Kent
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| Step out dressed to impress, with no intention to fess
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| Chillin HARD, with the P on my chest
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| Rhymin on the mic, while the beat rocks steady
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| Throw a funky fresh rhyme and MC’s fetch it like Freddy
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| Listen to heavy metal, hardcore rock n roll
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| Drink a six-pack, maybe Miller or Stroh
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| That’s not the move, it’s about hip-hop
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| The loud guitar playing and screaming has to stop
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| Let’s get it straight for nineteen eighty-eight
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| For it can sound fine for nineteen eighty-nine
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| I hear the girls out there sayin E is hot
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| That only shows you what juice I got
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| And if you don’t like me, and you yellin boo
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| There’s nothin wrong wit me, it’s somethin wrong with you
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| So let the funk flow
|
| «Let it flow!»
|
| So let the funk flow
|
| «Let it flow!»
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| Yo, this beat is sort of funky
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| Man, I ain’t worried about it, I know it’s funky
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| «Let it flow!» |