| Checka one-two, checka one-two
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| Turn me up, a lil' more
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| Check it, check it, check it
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| (Blackout)
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| As I step to the mic with the b-boy stance
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| To the braveheart MCs, I wouldn’t take a chance
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| Keep quiet while the MC rap
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| And if you disrespect me, it’s the big payback
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| The E double E is my name, I spell
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| Thanks to the clientele, my Squad rocks well
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| I’m in your hood, coming through like what?
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| Chromed out, beamed out in an all black truck
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| You a player? |
| What team you with?
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| I got major chips, I push the fliest whips
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| Got the fliest chicks, my outfits be freshly dipped
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| No matter what the steez, I’m equipped
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| Well my name is M-D, I’m known as the motivator
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| Funky beat maker, new jack terminator
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| Enjoy to destroy because your rhymes are toy
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| Never sweating no click (Why P?) 'Cause I’m a b-boy
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| When we on the scene, we always rock the spot
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| The Green-Eyed Bandit, Scratch and Mic Doc
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| In the beginning we had to let the world know
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| Now, EPMD is clocking all the dough
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| Sit back and relax, of course the biz phat
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| TV with the phone in the back
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| Always calm under pressure, no need to act ill
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| Listen when I tell you boy, You Gots to Chill
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| I be the fly rhyme maker, female heartbreaker
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| The dude want to play me and my crew, that’s rude
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| I’m dope, when I get down to the beat
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| I’m raw, I keep it hardcore for the streets
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| My track’s a miracle drug for thugs in the clubs
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| (Yo E, I remember when they used to be scrubs, what up?)
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| I’m the big bear and some of y’all are baby cubs
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| Talking large money when I seen your bank stubs
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| I take control of your body and soul
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| Pack heat in my pants when it’s time to roll
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| Well it’s P, Double-E, M-D-E-E
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| Here to bless the track and flip the flow with E
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| When we touch the microphone, no doubt we always shine
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| Jewels and rhymes, setting traps and land mines
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| Did thousand of shows, laced many places
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| EPMDs back and yo, throw the tape in
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| 'Cause when we come around, we always come with the flavor
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| Underground hardcore funk, that’s what we gave you
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| Or give you, aiyo what’s next on the menu
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| Business to tend to, stadiums and venues
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| With E and I’m the microphone doc
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| And the capital E, capital P, capital M, D
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| There’s no doubt, the world shocker
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| Hit Squad and Def Squad, yeah we both get ill
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| So believe me when I tell you boy, You Gots to Chill
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| Yo, I’m in the house now
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| Dudes with ice grills raise they eyebrow, amazed like, «Wow!»
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| E and P return like D
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| Last Dragon to show MCs just what’s happening
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| I get biz and that’s an natural fact
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| I’m like Zorro, I mark an E on your back
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| Worse than that, I crown those wannabe gangsters
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| Say something to 'em and run right through 'em
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| I’m making crazy G’s politicking on my mobile phone
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| The E-Double about the microphone
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| 'Cause we’re the funky rhyme maker, puffing Garcia Vegas
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| The one who rocks the fisherman hat
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| I grab the mic and make the crowd react
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| We keep the money stacking, fingers snapping toes tapping
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| When it’s time to roll, uzi patrol, we’re still packing
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| EPMD, the mic’s our only friend
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| Took a break for a while and now we back again
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| So if you think about gambling, you better come prepared
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| EPMD’s taking all the shares, You Gots to Chill |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song You Gots 2 Chill '97 , by - EPMD. Song from the album Out Of Business, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп