Rap Is Still Outta Control

Rap Is Still Outta Control

EPMD

[Busta Rhymes]
Rap is outta control!
Hey, hey rap, rap (for sure dude) wait what, wait
Hey, rap is outta control
Hold on!

Yeah yeah yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah yi-yeah yeah
Erick and Parrish, Busta Bus, check it
This is one of my favorites
Alright? So check it, check it
Yeah
Outta control
F'real, rap is outta control, like that (For sure dude!)
PMD, still Making Dollars
Uh-huh, rap's outta control (For sure dude!)
Yo, yo

[Erick Sermon]
I be pulsating dominating, up above
Run-D.M.C. style, stop and show love
E-Dub, I can't fall off, it's no way, I'm down low
I stay in the cut with O.J.
The fact is, some things got to change
with eight or more rappers that sound the same
With the, same game, like they all in the same gang
and claim the same fame
Suicide victims, quick to jump off and scream I
have to die, I'm living a lie
Fake MC's no heart, get torn apart
Messing with us? In ninety-nine, get smart
I be the last one you wanna play with
Rap committees call me, just to okay shit
Focus on me, I grab the mic and drop gems
on a ill rhyme, more flashier than rims
Step in in tan Timb's, a pocket full of ends with a
couple of friends and a couple of hens
Never boring, keep shit rocking til morning
with the bird, until the hawks start hawking
Bounce with me, me and my man keep things hitting
Hop in the Benz 2000 Benz with the CD skipping
EPMD, who's fucking with it
Outta control like 2Pac in Juice, character Bishop
Who's inferior? My Squad be Def
and we ain't hearing ya, lounge in the black interior
Because

[Busta Rhymes]
Ha! Yes ha, rap is outta control!
Ha, hey hey rap is outta control! (for sure dude)
Yo, hey, rap is outta control! (for sure dude)
Hey yo, hey, rap is outta control!

[Parrish Smith]
Yo, they took our music and our beat and tried to make it street
Then got in the magazine and tried to sound all sweet
When it came to EPMD no one said a word
So I called up Erick Sermon and said, "This shit's absurd!"
Now we flip the bird, back-breaking MC's down like herbs
Redlining, bending my chrome rims up on curbs
So can you make a bill and chill and survive in the rap field?
Flip deals, and cock back burners when the caps peel?
I don't think so, then come next the car repo
No mo' contract, just strictly handyman in Home Depot
So don't front for me or the E, cause you know our steez
EPMD, blazing shit, Def 2G's
Cause we make tape and break MC's who wannabees
and gonna-beez, burn em down to third degrees
You heard of me, ain't no one checking or serving me
I'll turn your 411 into the 911 emergency
Surgeon see

[Busta Rhymes]
rap is outta control!
Hey, hey rap, rap wait, what wait (for sure dude)
Hey, rap is outta control! Hold on
Wait wait, rap rap is outta control!

And yes yes y'all (yes y'all) hey, yes y'all (yes y'all)
hey yo kick it E!

[Erick Sermon]
I stand tall I won't fall, I recall
your rhymes stall when you bust caps
Make sure they krytonite caps
I'm made of steel, I swat bullets like gnats
I'm like, Superman, fly high,
way up in the sky
And if you try to shoot me down clown I won't die
I cremate

[Parrish Smith]
I hate, let's exterminate
Wait for a second E, time to debate
As we take our Fisherman hat off, there's no time to max
on the crab MC, who's all on the bozack
who knows that, 2000 Benz to shows that
yo, sold out crowd, where's the hoes at?
And the Old Gold black, icy cold fat
Wack MC's yo, where's your clothes at?
End the drama, that's word to your momma

Written by SERMON, ERICK S. / SMITH, PARRISH J.
Published by Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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