EPMD 2 Lyrics

EPMD 2 song Lyrics of Nas. This is new Latest song from album "King's Disease II". Song is sung Nas. Lyrics of EPMD 2 Lyrics Written by Hit-Boy, Eminem, PMD, Erick Sermon & Nas.

EPMD 2 Lyrics - Nas
EPMD 2 Song Details:
Song:EPMD 2
Lyrics:Hit-Boy, Eminem, PMD, Erick Sermon & Nas

EPMD 2 Lyrics


Bucket on low like Erick and Parrish

Closed casket flow, all you niggas get deaded

They do not 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)

EPMD, we back in business

Ain't nobody fuckin' with us, come to your senses (Uh)

P is the second comin' of God, somеthin' to witness

Piece of shit, fly on your hеad like Mike Pence's, we in the trenches

I am mad, better yet, I am 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

EPMD, we back in business

I visualize what it is, not what it isn't

We at the mafia table next to the kitchen

Eatin' Michelin Stars, countin' a million

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 do not 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?)

EPMD, we're back in business (What?)

Livin' in cramped conditions will give you ammunition

I stock those shelves, I got more shells like Taco Bell and I am not gon' fail

I got no L's (Noels) like Christmas, you do not 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 is 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, jail)

EPMD, but me, I gots no chill (Ch-chill)

Just a lotta skrill

Lady, my paper's so crazy, I just tossed a mill' out the window

Of my mobile on t
Written by: Hit-Boy, Eminem, PMD, Erick Sermon & Nas
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