Lyrics Symphony 2000 - EPMD, Redman, Method Man

Symphony 2000

Erick and Parrish Millenium Ducats
Hold me down, hold me down (*echoes*).
Uhh.
yo!
I grab the mic and grip it hard like it’s my last time to shine
I want the chrome and the cream so I put it down for mine
Ill cat, slick talk, slang New York
To break it down to straight English, what the fuck you want?
Remember me?
You punk faggot crab emcee
Get your shit broke in half for fuckin around with P
Aiyyo strike two, my style Brooklyn like the Zoo
Hey you, look nigga, one more strike you through
Word is bi-dond, rock Esco, FUBU, and Phat Fi-darm
Every time I get my spit on, no doubt, I spark the gridiron
I step up and bless the track and spit a jewel
We keeps cool, no need for static, I strap tools
Next up!
Yo I believe that’s me
Yo, get on the mic and rock the Symphony
Yo P!
Time to rock, the sound I got, it reigns hot
Makin necks snap back, like a slingshot
E hustle, and muscle my way in
Then tussle for days in, on my own with guns blazin
Not for the fun of it, just for those who want me to run it
Then leave them like -- who done it?
Sucka duck, I do what I feel right now
When I spit the illest shit, cats be like, «Wow!»
YO!
I get looks when I’m in the place
That’s that nigga, makin you +Smile+ with Scarface
Uhh, +It Ain’t My Fault+, that my style Silkk enough to Shock ya
Hit you with the fifth, block-a block-a
If I get caught you can bet I’ll blow trial
Be +Downtown Swingin+, M.O.P.
style
Next up!
Yo yo it’s Funk D.O.C
Yo, you’re on the mic to rock the Symphony
HeHAHHH!
Yo yo
Did you ever think you would catch a cap?
Yo did you ever think you would get a slap?
Yo did you ever think you would get robbed
At gunpoint, stripped and thrown out the car?
It’s Funk Doc, you know my name HOE
My style dirty underground, or Ukraine po'
When it hits you, pain pumps Kool-Aid, through the vein and shit
Snatch the trap then I Dash like Damon did
Doc, walk _Thin Red Lines_ to shell shock
Hairlock with fuckin broads in nail shops
Hydro?
Got more bags than bellhops
Two thousand Benz on my eight by ten PICTURE
Papichu', slayin crews in ICU
Battlin, usin hockey rules
For Keith Murray, Doc gon' cock these tools
Rollin down like dice in Yahtzee fool!
I «Just Do It» like Nike, outta 'Bama
With ten kids with hammers, hooked to a camper!
Yo next up
It’s the G-O-D
Yo yo, get on the mic for the Symphony
Youth on the move, payin them dues, nuttin to lose
Huh, street kids, broken and bruised, eyein yo' jewels
Huh, bad news bearin' they souls through rhyme and blues
«Hardcore!»
To make them brothers act fool
Hands on the steel, flip you heads over heel *sniff*
Smell the daffodils from the lyric overkill *sniff*
Feelin like the mack inside a Cadillac Seville *screech*
Too ill, on cuts, the Barber of Seville — fi-ga-ro!
The sky is fallin — GERONIMO!
I feel my high comin down.
LOOKOUT BELOW!
AIYYO!
Dead that roach clip and spark another
Chickenhawks, playin theyselves like Parker Brothers
I rock for the low-class, from Locash
The broke-assed, even rock for trailer park trash
Yeah yeah, the God on your block like Godzilla
Yeah, yeah—she gave away my pussy I’mma kill her
John John phenom-enon
In Japan they call me Ichiban
Wu-Tang Clan, numba won!
In the whole nine, I hold mine
Keep playin with it kid, you might go blind — jerkoff!
Fuck them a.k.a., for now it’s just Meth
That’s it, that’s all, solo, single no more no less
NEXT UP!
I believe that’s me
BASTARD!
Get on the mic and rock the Symphony
Mrs. Stop Drop and Roll, rocks top the told
Hot, even though dames is froze
Pop close range at foes, and blaze them hoes
Leave em with they brains exposed, and stains on clothes
Y’all better change your flows, hear how Luck spittin?
Stay drunk-pissed in the S-Type, stay whippin *screech*
When the guns spittin, duck or get hittin
It’s written, we in the game but ball different
Point game like Jordan, y’all play the role of Pippen
Style switchin, like tight ass after stickin
MAN LISTEN, stop your cryin and your bitchin
Like E and P’s last CD, you’re out of business