Upcoming Concerts for EPMD
Featured In
Similar Songs
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
EPMD
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Erick Sermon
Composer
Parrish J. Smith
Composer
Roger Troutman
Composer
Larry Troutman
Composer
Lou Gramm
Composer
Mick Jones
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Erick Sermon
Producer
Parish "PMD" Smith
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Equipped with the rap microchip
Program, aptitude, one more return, ah, ****
My face in the magazines, showin' my eyes green
Chill, freshly dipped when I'm seen
Yo, dig, it's the new fig for the E-Double
I pack a MAC-10 just in case of trouble
Hot like the handle on a pot, I'm steamin'
Fame and more glory than Morgan Freeman
I'm the original, my style's deformed
So it can sound crazy ill when I perform
Yeah, check one, two, mic supreme
EPMD, the rap American Dream Team
The E-Double's definitely no joke
You can't see me even with a microscope
I'm massive dope, funky, who's deafer
Yo, when I express myself like salt and pepper
Erick Sermon and Parrish Smith
The sickest, the wickest, crazy mad psycho, the slickest
Hardcore rhymin', yeah, that's the ticket
Buck-wildin', rough enough for Long Island
[Verse 2]
Chill, chill, chill
Rough enough to break New York from Long Island
Chill, chill, chill
Rough enough to break New York from Long Island
Chill, chill, chill
Rough enough to break New York from Long Island
Chill, chill, chill
Rough enough to break New York from Long Island
[Verse 3]
Back up, boy, move easy with the hand motion
Don't even blink, kid, or I'ma start smokin'
The Glock hammer's cocked with the speed shot
Twelve shots, the bust target is the brown fox
So call me smooth talk, rhyme jaywalk, with the slang talk
B-boy fanatic, straight from New York
The foundation, landmark of the rap scene
EPMD in effect, I'm clockin' mad green
Like Kermit the frog, sloppy like Boss Hog
Girl was runnin' wild, ate her like a corndog
Four mics are ready to flow in slow mo
Know the rap game just like Bo knows hoes
(Yeah) Hard, you get scarred, messin' with the Hit Squad
Slide easy or catch a bullshucks charge
No time to ill, stay mental or puff a pill
Get the macadamias, and oh, yeah, kid, chill
[Verse 4]
Chill, chill, chill
Rough enough to break New York from Long Island
Chill, chill, chill
Rough enough to break New York from Long Island
Chill, chill, chill
Rough enough to break New York from Long Island
Chill, chill, chill
Rough enough to break New York from Long Island
Chill, chill, chill
Chill, chill, chill
Chill, chill, chill
Written by: Erick Sermon, Larry Troutman, Lou Gramm, Mick Jones, Parrish J. Smith, Roger Troutman