EPMD
Run It
HardcoreEverybody on the floor, everybody on the floorPMD, Erick SermonYou what it is, listen to my manRun your jewelryHands upYes, Peace to Just IceBe scaredBronxYo, the real dynamic duo, and i quoteG boys, I bring it back to a droopy rope, dopeI sport like I if I spit the commandmentsSo inspired, now who the hell your man wit?And he's gangsta right?He belong in a dimwit typeYou picked the wrong nightI'ma Las Vegas fight Don King in the ringDoes my thing from father spring, that's all yearI can feel in a wannabe rapper turned actorHe wanna act tough it hit him with the clapperDef-con actor, see I ain't playing kidHe screamed and I'ma just saying he didEPMD I'm scared for usCause someone might bite the dustWe don't rush showerSongtexteThe power I got is snappin' necksSo I suggest ya show respectWe own that[Chorus: x2]Now put your hand in the airKeep 'em thereRun your jewels, run itRun your jewels, run itRun your jewels, motherfuckerYou 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 itRun your jewels, motherfuckerCats walking past your crib, walk in your houseGo in your mouth, talkin' you outBut EMS we spying we carryin' you outWith the slow IV feeWoken the fuck up, back eye with the nose bleedMy dudes be like dude chillI be like fuck chillCats complainin' bout the game, pass the pillEPMD is too real, y'all knowThe only reason why you eatin', cause we payed the billHow many times I got to tell you the shit shut down'til Erick and Parrish return and hold the B-Boys downStep through the door, hot body and lick off the groundUhu, I see niggaz listening nowFaces is wrecked like wildThere goes EMP with the fisherman hatFour back, get hit with the gun powRespect the gods, excuse me, I beg your paCan't hear you, you got to grade up, cause the beats too hard[Chorus]I bring the heat quickI do it, kill Ramone in Beat StreetI get the club rockin' on some seasick shitI ain't gotta tell you I'm hood man, you can see I'm itMy rhyme hits, I don't preach 'bout cashcause most of y'all know cash like E-ZpassYou came in talkin' bout you gon beat meThen you left out talkin' bout "just give me two more CDs"You're young so you need to be gangstersWhile real G's wanna sit home and read the paperCourtside view with the LA LakersBut its always some youngin' you got to send to his makerAnd i don't need the ratchet to reach your assI'm old school I off you with a peace of glassRun your jewels, you know who it be, KRS-EPMD[Chorus]
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