“Nas – EPMD 2 Lyrics”
[Verse]
Respectfully, bucket on low like Erick and Parrish
Closed casket flow, all you niggas get deaded
They don’t give you one single rose while you can smell it
So, I pick it from my garden
Wanna go out in my garden like Godfather
Grandkids and a rottweiler got over the block trauma
So what ya sayin’ niggas? You gots to chill
Thinkin’ you the truth really you not for real
Back to back with the hardest shit of the year
EPMD, we back in business
Ain’t nobody fuckin’ with us, come to your senses
P is the second coming of God, something to witness
Piece of shit fly on your hеad like Mike Pencе’s
We in the trenches, I’m mad, better yet, I’m on a rampage
My people can’t even get minimum wage
Give me some interest, give me some loan, give me a home
Get me that land you owe me, so I can roam
So when you trespass, blaow, one in your dome
Best wishes, ghost ’em like he Tommy
Ain’t worried ’bout nothing ’cause it’s all behind me
EPMD, we back in business
I visualize what it is, not what is isn’t
We at the mafia table next to the kitchen
Eatin’ Michelin Stars, countin’ a million, done
I let it go for the family meetings and coated Miami
The wine bottles on Maggie-extra large
Sign up for my master class, Escobar
Feed up and med Sadie, I’m at my restaurant
Clouded from hazy the daily, she know my thoughts get crazy
My teachers they couldn’t grade me
I know some Haitians in Dave County
Got choppas in Haiti, she booked a flight to Colombia
I made her body amazing, just to post it on Tumblr
This that fuck up the summer shit, I don’t care what you comin’ with
We in here boy, running shit
Big dough, gold chains, but they flooded now
Pull up with the ghost like a haunted house
She gettin’ scary blood on my hands, like Carrie
Might walk through a cemetery and see where Hip Hop is buried
I said it was dead, but I faked this death like it was Machiavelli
You see letters in red splatter looks like sauce on spaghetti
[Verse]
You ready?
EMPD, we’re back in business
Living crap conditions, we’ll give you ammunition
Got no shells? I got more shells like Taco Bell and I’m not gon’ fail
I got no elves like Christmas, you don’t wanna make Claus come out
Y’all should call yourselves Santa (Why?)
‘Cause none of y’all are real, nah, not a single one
Like a dollar bill, like your bitch on the pellet
She’s on the pill, we gotta bond and she’ll
Never bail on me, not even outta jail
EMPD, homie, I gots no chills, just a lot of skrill
Lady, my paper’s so crazy
I just tossed a mill’ out the window
Went on the bill on the fucking freeway on way here
Like Rudolph, when his homies are pullin’ the sleigh, yeah
A lot of bucks flyin’, when I’m makin’ it rain, dear
Green on me, but no weed shortie, I just sneezed, darling
No pockets full of pills, sold my Tylenol
Three solids, for three molly
This summer eve which reminds me of rap summary
Mami, my theme song, me and Pete
Always use to play that shit on repeat all day
So please call me “Big Daddy”
Plus I got the cane and lean on me
It seems I’m eatin’ you B-I-T-C-H-E-S like tortilla chips
Me, I’m free up to green like chias on chia pets
This is the effects of my whole neighborhood
Misery index, poverty, it is people staling and PTSG
I guess, R.I.P. out to DMX, Jeez Louis and MC Ecstasy
And Biz Markie B, and do my hit 50 via text
‘Cause I don’t even know when I’ma see ’em text
Tomorrow could be death
Yeah, and this shit ain’t for the faint
The brains of the train kill the danger
Derange and I drink all the ink on the blank paper
And wait ’til the page fill up on pinks
Full of shame for the strength of the pain, pour the drink
I just pray for the day I’m able to say
That I’m place with the greats and my name’s with the Kings and the Waynes and the Jays and the dres the Ye’s
And the Drakes and the Jakes and the Jade, it’s cool Jade
The rhymes are amazing, the schnazz is embracing the Gods
That shout out to the golden age of hip hop and the name of this song is-
[Refrain]
EPMD, we back in business
I visualize what it is, not what is isn’t
We at the mafia table next to the kitchen
Eatin’ Michelin Stars, countin’ a million