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
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)
[Verse 1: PMD & Erick Sermon]
EPMD, we back in business
Ain't nobody fuckin' with us, come to your senses (Uh)
P is the second comin' of God, somethin' to witness
Piece of shit, fly on your head 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
[Chorus: Nas]
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
[Verse 2: Nas & Eminem]
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?)
[Verse 3: Eminem]
EPMD, we're back in business (What?)
Livin' in cramped conditions, we'll 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)
EPMD, but me, I gots no chills (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
[Chorus: Nas]
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
Respektfol
Bucket op leech lykas Erick en Parrish
Sletten Casket-stream, Alles wat jo niggas deade wurde
Se jouwe jo net ien reizen, wylst jo it kinne rûke
Dus ik kies út myn eigen tún (tún)
Wolle jo útgean yn myn tún lykas pake
Grandkids en in Rottweiler krige oer de blok Trauma (Ja, Trauma)
Dus wat jo sizze, nigga? Do giest nei chill (uh-he)
Tink jo de wierheid, echt jo net foar echte (EPMD!)
Werom nei rêch mei it, de hurdste stront fan it jier (Nasir Jones, Remix)
[Verse 1: PMD & Erick Sermon]
EPMD, wy werom yn bedriuw
Nimmen is net mei ús neuken, kom nei jo sinnen (uh)
P is de twadde komst 'fan God, somethin' om te tsjûgjen
Stik shit, fleane op jo holle as mike pence's, wy yn 'e sleatten
Ik bin gek, better noch, ik bin op in rampage
Myn minsken kinne net iens minimaal lean krije
Fuck in stimulâns (uh), jou my wat ynteresse (uh)
Jou my in liening (oh), jou my in hûs
Jou my dat lân jo my skuldich, dat ik kin rinne
Dus as jo oertrêdzje, blaze, ien yn jo koepel
Bêste winsken, spoek 'em lykas hy Tommy
Is net soargen 'Bout Neat' feroarsaakje rekke squad achter my
[Koarus: Nas]
EPMD, wy werom yn bedriuw
Ik visualisearje wat it is, net wat net is
Wy by de mafia-tafel neist de keuken
Michelin Stars eatin ', in miljoen rekkenje
[Verse 2: NAS & EMINEM]
Dun! Ik lit it gean foar de famylje, meetin's by Cote yn Miami
Se wynflessen op Maggie, ekstra grut
Oanmelde foar myn MasterClass, escobar
Fuotten omheech by Mets Stadium by My Restaurant
Bûn yn fan az nei Dave East
Jo wite dat myn gedachten gek wurde
Myn leararen, se koene my net graze
Ik wit wat Haïtianen yn Dade County, hawwe choppers yn Haïty
Se boekt in flecht nei Kolomba, makke har lichem Amazin '
Gewoan om it te pleatsen op Tumblr, dit dat "neuke de simmer" shit
It makket my net út wat jo komme mei, my en Hit-Boy Runnin 'Shit (Runnin' Shit)
Big Gold, rope keatlingen, mar se oerstreamden no (ja; no oerstreamd)
Pull up mei it spoek lykas in spoekhûs (Haunted House)
Se krijt skriklik, bloed op myn hannen lykas Carrie
Kin rinne troch in begraafplak om te sjen wêr't hip-hop wurdt begroeven
Ik sei dat it wie dea, mar it fekele syn dea lykas Machiavelli
Jo sjogge letters yn reade splatter, sjoch as saus en spaghetti
(Ja, klear?)
[VERSE 3: EMINEM]
EPMD, Wy binne werom yn bedriuw (wat?)
Libje yn krampige betingsten, wy sille jo ammunysje jaan
Ik stock dy planken, ik krige mear skulpen lykas Taco Bell en ik bin net gon 'fail
Ik krige gjin L's (NELE's) lykas Kryst, jo wolle de klauwen net wolle (Claus) útkomme (Nah)
Jo moatte jimsels santa neame (wêrom?) 'Oarsaak dat gjinien fan jo wirklik is (nah)
Net ien (lykas wat?), Lykas in dollar rekken (ja)
It is as jo teef yn 'e appelbaasde rjochtbank, sy is op in pille (berop)
Wy hawwe har in bân krigen en se sil
Nea bail op my (bail op my), net iens út 'e kant (haha)
EPMD, mar ik, ik krige gjin rillingen (CH-chill)
Gewoan in lotta skrill
Dame, myn papier is sa gek, ik goaide gewoan in mûne 'út it finster
Fan myn mobyl op 'e FUCKIN' FREEWAY HJIR HIER (YEAH)
Lykas rudolph en syn homies as se de slee lûke, ja
Dat is in soad dollar Flyin 'as ik it reint makket, leave
Grien op my, mar gjin ûnkrûd, shorty, krekt dizze, leave
In bûse fol mei pillen, guon binne tylenol 3s, prollyf twa of trije molly
Dat guon binne e dy't my tinken docht oan rap-gearfetting
Mami, myn tema-ferske, ik en p
Altyd brûkt om te spieljen dat shit op 'e heule dei werhelje
Dus skilje my asjebleaft "Big Daddy" (heit)
Plus ik haw de 'Caine en lean op my (ja)
MCS, ik yt dat jo B-I-T-C-H's binne lykas tortilla chips
Me, ik bin frij fan skuld, ja, grien is op chia pet (woo)
Dit is de effekten fan myn âlde buert ellinde yndeks
Armoede op syn hichtepunt, OCD en PTSD tink ik
RÊST YN FREDE. út nei DMX, Stezo, E en Nipsey
Ekstasy en Prins Markie Dee, MF Doom, ik sloech 50 fia tekst
Fertelde him dat ik fan him hâld, om't ik net iens wit wannear't ik him neist sjoch (Nah)
Moarn koe jo dea wêze (bring dy beat werom)
Ja, en dizze shit is net foar it flok
Feroarsaakje dat de iller fan 'e harsens traind, killer, gefaar, ferneatige
En ik dronk alle dei op 'e dei (ja) Ik long op it papier
Wachtsje dan 'oant de pagina ynfolje (wat?)
Haat spieler skande de sterkte fan in pine-pil as tranq '
Ik bid gewoan foar de dei as ik by steat bin om te sizzen dat ik mei de grins pleatst bin
En myn namme is mei de Kanes, en de Waynes, en de jays
En de dres, en it ja, en de drokken
En de J Dillas, Jadas, Cool JS, en de RAS
En Amazin 'as NAS is, en priizgje oan' e goaden hjirfan
Rop nei de gouden tiid fan hip-hop en de namme fan dit ferske is
[Koarus: Nas]
EPMD, wy werom yn bedriuw
Ik visualisearje wat it is, net wat net is
Wy by de mafia-tafel neist de keuken
Michelin Stars eatin ', in miljoen rekkenje