Run It
(专辑: We Mean Business - 2008)
Hardcore Everybody on the
floor, everybody on the
floor PMD, Erick Sermon You what it is, listen to my man Run your jewelry Hands up Yes, Peace to Just Ice Be scared Bronx [Erick Sermon:] Yo, the
real dynamic duo, and I
quote G
boys, I
bring it back to a
dooky rope, dope I
sport like I
if I
spit the
commandments So inspired, now who the
hell your man wit? And he's gangsta right? He belong in a
dimwit type You picked the
wrong night I'mma Las Vegas fight Don King in the
ring Does my thing from father spring, that's all year I
can feel in a
wannabe rapper turned actor He wanna act tough it hit him with the
clapper Def-con actor, see I
ain't playing kid He screamed and I'mma just saying he did EPMD I'm scared for us Cause someone might bite the
dust Before rush hour The
power I
got is snappin necks So I
suggest ya show respect We own that Now put your hand in the
air Keep 'em there Run your jewels, run it Run your jewels, run it Run your jewels, motherfucker [x2] You heard what we said man, we ain't playin Don't wait till it starts sprayin We set it of while the
DJ playin Run your jewels, run it Run your jewels, motherfucker [Parrish Smith:] Cats walking past your crib, walk in your house Go in your mouth, talkin you out But EMS we spying we carryin you out With the
slow IV fee Woken the
fuck up, back eye with the
nose bleed My dudes be like dude chill I
be like fuck chill Cats complainin bout the
game, pass the
pill EPMD is too real, y'all know The
only reason why you eatin, cause we payed the
bill How many times I
got to tell you the
shit shut down 'til Erick and Parrish return and hold the
B-Boys down Step through the
door, hot body and lick off the
ground Uhu, I
see niggas listening now Faces is wrecked like wild There goes EMP with the
fisherman hat Four back, get hit with the
gun pow Respect the
gods, excuse me, I
beg your pa Can't hear you, you got to grade up, cause the
beats too hard Now put your hand in the
air Keep 'em there Run your jewels, run it Run your jewels, run it Run your jewels, motherfucker [x2] [KRS-One:] I
bring the
heat quick I
do it, kill Ramone in Beat Street I
get the
club rockin on some seasick shit I
ain't gotta tell you I'm hood man, you can see I'm it My rhyme hits, I
don't preach 'bout cash Cause most of yall know cash like E-Zpass You came in talkin bout you gon beat me Then you left out talkin bout "just give me two more CDs" You're young so you need to be gangsters While real G's wanna sit home and read the
paper Courtside view with the
LA Lakers But its always some youngin you got to send to his maker And I
don't need the
ratchet to reach your ass I'm old school I
off you with a
piece of glass Run your jewels, you know who it be, KRS-EPMD Now put your hand in the
air Keep 'em there Run your jewels, run it Run your jewels, run it Run your jewels, motherfucker [x2]