EPMD 2 (feat. Eminem & EPMD)

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 from my own garden Garden Wanna go out in my garden like Godfather Grandkids and a Rottweiler got over the block trauma Yeah trauma So what you sayin' nigga You gots to chill Uh-huh Thinkin' you the truth really you not for real EPMD Back to back with it the hardest shit of the year Nasir Jones remix EPMD we back in business Ain't nobody fuckin' with us come to your senses Uh P is the second comin' of God somеthin' to witness Piece of shit fly on your hеad like Mike Pence's we in the trenches I'm mad better yet I'm on a rampage My people can't even get minimum wage Fuck a stimulus Uh give me some interest Uh Give me a loan Oh give me a home Give 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 Hit Squad behind me EPMD we back in business I visualize what it is not what it isn't We at the mafia table next to the kitchen Eatin' Michelin Stars countin' a million Dun I let it go for the family meetin's at Cote in Miami Them wine bottles on maggie extra large Sign up for my masterclass Escobar Feet up at Mets Stadium at my restaurant Tied in from AZ to Dave East You know my thoughts get crazy My teachers they couldn't grade me I know some Haitians in Dade County got choppers in Haiti She booked a flight to Colombia made her body amazin' Just to post it on Tumblr this that fuck up the summer shit I don't care what you comin' with me and Hit-Boy runnin' shit Runnin' shit Big gold rope chains but they flooded now Yeah flooded now Pull up with the Ghost like a haunted house Haunted house She gettin' scary blood on my hands like Carrie Might walk through a cemetery to see where hip-hop is buried I said it was dead but it faked its death like Machiavelli You see letters in red splatter look like sauce and spaghetti Yeah ready EPMD we're back in business What Livin' in cramped conditions will give you ammunition I stock those shelves I got more shells like Taco Bell and I'm not gon' fail I got no L's Noels like Christmas you don't wanna make the claws Claus come out Nah Y'all should call yourselves Santa Why 'cause none of y'all are real Nah Not a single one Like what like a dollar bill Yeah It's like your bitch in the appellate court she's on a pill Appeal We got her a bond and she'll Never bail on me Bail on me not even outta jail Haha jail EPMD but me I gots no chill Ch-chill Just a lotta skrill Lady my paper's so crazy I just tossed a mill' out the window Of my mobile on the fuckin' freeway on the way here Yeah Like Rudolph and his homies when they pullin' the sleigh yeah That's a lot of bucks flyin' when I'm makin' it rain dear Green on me but no weed shorty just these darling A pocket full of pills some are Tylenol 3s prolly two or three Molly So some are E which reminds me of rap summary Mami my theme song me and P Always used to play that shit on repeat all day So please call me Big Daddy Daddy Plus I got the 'caine and lean on me Yeah MCs I'm eatin' you B-I-T-C-H's like tortilla chips Me I'm free of debt yeah green is on Chia Pet Woo This is the effects of my old neighborhood misery index Poverty at its peak OCD and PTSD I guess R I P out to DMX Stezo E and Nipsey Ecstasy and Prince Markie Dee MF DOOM I hit 50 via text Told him that I love him 'cause I don't even know when I'ma see him next Nah Tomorrow could be your death Bring that beat back Yeah and this shit ain't for the faint 'Cause the brain's iller trained killer danger deranged And I drank all the DayQuil Yeah I blank on the paper Then wait 'til the page fill up What Hate spiller shameful the strength of a pain pill or tranq' I just pray for the day when I'm able to say that I'm placed with the greats And my name's with the Kanes and the Waynes and the Jays and the Dres And the Yes and the Drakes and the J Dillas Jadas Cool Js And the Ras and amazin' as Nas is and praise to the Gods of this Shout to the golden age of hip-hop and the name of this song is EPMD we back in business I visualize what it is not what it isn't We at the mafia table next to the kitchen Eatin' Michelin Stars countin' a million