You Gots 2 Chill ’97

[Intro: Erik Sermon, Parrish Smith] You Gots to Chill Check-a one-two, check-a one-two Turn me up, a lil' more Check it, check it, check it Blackout [Verse 1: Erick Sermon] As I step to the mic with the b-boy stance To the braveheart MCs, I wouldn't take a chance Keep quiet while the MC rap And if you disrespect me, it's the big payback The E double E is my name, I spell Thanks to the clientele, my Squad rocks well I'm in your hood, coming through like what? Chromed out, beamed out in an all black truck You a player? What team you with? I got major chips, I push the fliest whips Got the fliest chicks, my outfits be freshly dipped No matter what the steez, I'm equipped [Verse 2: PMD, Erick Sermon] Well my name is MD, I'm known as the motivator Funky beat maker, new jack terminator Enjoy to destroy because your rhymes are toy Never sweating no clique (Why P?) 'Cause I'm a b-boy When we on the scene, we always rock the spot The Green-Eyed Bandit, Scratch and Mic Doc In the beginning we had to let the world know Now, EPMD is clocking all the dough Sit back and relax, of course the biz phat TV with the phone in the back Always calm under pressure, no need to act ill Listen when I tell you boy, You Gots to Chill [Chorus] "Jungle Boogie" [Verse 3: Erick Sermon, PMD] I be the fly rhyme maker, female heartbreaker The dude want to play me and my crew, that's rude I'm dope, when I get down to the beat I'm raw, I keep it hardcore for the streets My track's a miracle drug for thugs in the clubs (Yo E, I remember when they used to be scrubs, what up?) I'm the big bear and some of y'all are baby cubs Talking large money when I seen your bank stubs I take control of your body and soul Pack heat in my pants when it's time to roll [Verse 4: PMD] Well it's P, double E, M-D-E-E Here to bless the track and flip the flow with E When we touch the microphone, no doubt we always shine Jewels and rhymes, setting traps and land mines Did thousand of shows, laced many places EPMD's back and yo, throw the tape in 'Cause when we come around, we always come with the flavor Underground hardcore funk, that's what we gave you Or give you, ayo what's next on the menu Business to tend to, stadiums and venues With E and I'm the microphone doc And the capital E, capital P, capital M-D There's no doubt, the world shocker Hit Squad and Def Squad, yeah we both get ill So believe me when I tell you boy, You Gots to Chill [Chorus] "Jungle Boogie" [Verse 5: Erick Sermon] Yo, I'm in the house now Dudes with ice grills raise they eyebrow, amazed like, "Wow!" E and P return like The Last Dragon to show MC's just what's happening I get biz and that's an natural fact I'm like Zorro, I mark an E on your back Worse than that, I crown those wannabe gangsters Say something to 'em and run right through 'em [Verse 6: PMD] I'm making crazy G's politicking on my mobile phone The E Double about the microphone 'Cause we're the funky rhyme maker, puffing Garcia Vegas The one who rocks the fisherman hat I grab the mic and make the crowd react We keep the money stacking, fingers snapping, toes tapping When it's time to roll, Uzi patrol, we're still packing EPMD, the mic's our only friend Took a break for a while and now we back again So if you think about gambling, you better come prepared EPMD's taking all the shares, You Gots to Chill [Chorus] "Jungle Boogie"