| Erick and Parrish Millenium Ducats
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| Hold me down, hold me down *echoes*…
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| Yeh. |
| Erick Sermon. |
| EPMD. |
| check it
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| Redman. |
| Method Man. |
| Lady Luck. |
| Def Jam
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| Erick and Parrish Millenium Ducats
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| Hold me down, hold me down (*echoes*).
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| Uhh. |
| yo!
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| I grab the mic and grip it hard like it’s my last time to shine
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| I want the chrome and the cream so I put it down for mine
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| Ill cat, slick talk, slang New York
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| To break it down to straight English, what the fuck you want?
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| Remember me? |
| You punk faggot crab emcee
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| Get your shit broke in half for fuckin around with P
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| Aiyyo strike two, my style Brooklyn like the Zoo
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| Hey you, look nigga, one more strike you through
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| Word is bi-dond, rock Esco, FUBU, and Phat Fi-darm
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| Every time I get my spit on, no doubt, I spark the gridiron
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| I step up and bless the track and spit a jewel
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| We keeps cool, no need for static, I strap tools
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| Next up!
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| Yo I believe that’s me
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| Yo, get on the mic and rock the Symphony
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| Yo P!
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| Time to rock, the sound I got, it reigns hot
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| Makin necks snap back, like a slingshot
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| E hustle, and muscle my way in
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| Then tussle for days in, on my own with guns blazin
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| Not for the fun of it, just for those who want me to run it
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| Then leave them like -- who done it?
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| Sucka duck, I do what I feel right now
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| When I spit the illest shit, cats be like, «Wow!»
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| YO! |
| I get looks when I’m in the place
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| That’s that nigga, makin you +Smile+ with Scarface
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| Uhh, +It Ain’t My Fault+, that my style Silkk enough to Shock ya
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| Hit you with the fifth, block-a block-a
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| If I get caught you can bet I’ll blow trial
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| Be +Downtown Swingin+, M.O.P. |
| style
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| NEXT UP!
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| Yo I believe that’s me
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| Yo (Danze) get on the mic and rock the Symphony
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| Say hello to the devil Danze’ll kick
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| Whenever tragic hit, It’s (E)(MO-PMD) blastin shit
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| Put in work in this cold game
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| Soldier *echoes* I use work as code name
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| Told ya, line em up its Soul Train
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| (B-r-r-r-r-r-ra!) And I give em the whole thing
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| My family has been trained, to swat em if they blast it
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| Hit em and make em do a gimme backflip (bad shit)
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| I’m donatin a casket
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| We have raised hell in midtown and gunned down in traffic
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| (Tell em what you sayin) Get the bozac
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| Before I tear your maggot ass flat (BOOM BOOM) They’re back
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| NEXT UP!
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| Yo I believe that’s me
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| (Fame!) Get on the mic for the Symphony
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| For gettin the real, straight from B’Ville
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| Motherfuckers don’t like Fame cause I’m not cream filled
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| I feel what I speak so I speak what I feel
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| Sleep and I will, reap and I kill
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| Motherfuck (who know) jump out a Yugo
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| Open up your back with a mac, UNO UNO
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| Ghettoville nigga, I break all laws
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| Drink brews, curse out bitches, and piss on walls
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| This rap game is a street game now, the game switched
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| Rappers are gettin killed now with the same shit
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| I ain’t no motherfuckin role model, kids don’t follow
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| Cause I’mma hit this bitch full throttle
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| The type to RAISE UP 5−0 in your lobby
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| Rap is my religion, yeah, bitin is a hobby
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| Show love when you meet us, its love when you greet us
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| Or THE FIRST FAMILY will come kill you with the heaters
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| BLAH *echoes* |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Symphony , by - EPMD. Song from the album Out Of Business, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп