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EPMD - For My People Lyrics



EPMD - For My People Lyrics




Hereeeeeee we go....

[Verse One: Erick Sermon]

The E-R-I-C-K S-E-R-M-O-N
I'm dark skinned, pack a mac 10
More menace and I'll wreck the whole damn set
Smash (yes) you ain't seen *shit* yet
Yes, a fact, a black nine mil is what I pack
In the front of my waist, right next to my bozack
A safety, for the suckers that hate me
I haven't had to bust a couple of rounds lately
I hope not, it's no fun getting shot
Cause when I cock, I aim straight for the knot
I don't miss, I have a scope, no jokin
You should hope, that disco appearance like broke
Mass destruction when I start crushin and bustin
Duck MC's, I'm bumrushin
Swift wit the trig, there's nuff foes equipped
Real deal, of course, I pack steel, shit's thick
I'm not dumb, to walk the streets, they kept us swinging by
A punk chump wit spunk, who dares to jump
By the hour, I push power like Hiroshima
Got dropped on by USA and like cleaned her
I manage to damage people without a sequel
This is for my people

[Verse Two: PMD]

Check out the main attraction, black man in action
Number one crowd mover, I break backs in
Boy, you shoulda known what EPMD stands for
Sucker snappin necks, bustin caps, and breakin jaws
It's Erick and Parrish Making Dollars
Excel, living well, taking no shorts and why bother
to whine while I dine, sounds genuine
You walked in wrong camp, punk, stepped on a landmine
Boom bang, bust the slang that I bring
From Brentwood, Long Island, all the way to Sing-Sing
Yes the penile, peace to brothers on trial
For some *bullshit* charge, mugshot on file
For hard time, thump beats like an Alpine
No Sam Suey sole shoe shoot joints, back a tech nine
Yes the brother's back wit no knife or ax
Just a microphone, sucker, it limits that pack
Def blows and flows, quadraverbs and echoes
Sounds the pound hard to make an MC petrol
My nine mil, kitted wit the infrared beam
Something similar to a Roger Moore scene
That's James Bond, 007, wit guillotine
To keep the Hit Squad hype to fly heads like the A-Team
Don't bug or miss, bug on the sequel
For this shit I kick, it's strictly for my people

[PMD gives shoutouts]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




Hereeeeeee we go....

[Verse One: Erick Sermon]

The E-R-I-C-K S-E-R-M-O-N
I'm dark skinned, pack a mac 10
More menace and I'll wreck the whole damn set
Smash (yes) you ain't seen *shit* yet
Yes, a fact, a black nine mil is what I pack
In the front of my waist, right next to my bozack
A safety, for the suckers that hate me
I haven't had to bust a couple of rounds lately
I hope not, it's no fun getting shot
Cause when I cock, I aim straight for the knot
I don't miss, I have a scope, no jokin
You should hope, that disco appearance like broke
Mass destruction when I start crushin and bustin
Duck MC's, I'm bumrushin
Swift wit the trig, there's nuff foes equipped
Real deal, of course, I pack steel, shit's thick
I'm not dumb, to walk the streets, they kept us swinging by
A punk chump wit spunk, who dares to jump
By the hour, I push power like Hiroshima
Got dropped on by USA and like cleaned her
I manage to damage people without a sequel
This is for my people

[Verse Two: PMD]

Check out the main attraction, black man in action
Number one crowd mover, I break backs in
Boy, you shoulda known what EPMD stands for
Sucker snappin necks, bustin caps, and breakin jaws
It's Erick and Parrish Making Dollars
Excel, living well, taking no shorts and why bother
to whine while I dine, sounds genuine
You walked in wrong camp, punk, stepped on a landmine
Boom bang, bust the slang that I bring
From Brentwood, Long Island, all the way to Sing-Sing
Yes the penile, peace to brothers on trial
For some *bullshit* charge, mugshot on file
For hard time, thump beats like an Alpine
No Sam Suey sole shoe shoot joints, back a tech nine
Yes the brother's back wit no knife or ax
Just a microphone, sucker, it limits that pack
Def blows and flows, quadraverbs and echoes
Sounds the pound hard to make an MC petrol
My nine mil, kitted wit the infrared beam
Something similar to a Roger Moore scene
That's James Bond, 007, wit guillotine
To keep the Hit Squad hype to fly heads like the A-Team
Don't bug or miss, bug on the sequel
For this shit I kick, it's strictly for my people

[PMD gives shoutouts]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: ERICK SERMON, PARRISH SMITH
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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