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"