Check 1 2 Lyrics by Epmd

Check 1 2 Lyrics

    [erick sermon]
    Epmd.. def jam.. blazin..

    Check it, uh-huh, yo
    It's e-dub on the microphone
    My style be elektra, i'm the male syl rhome
    Homes, walk around with forty-four chrome
    On safety, spike the mic in the endzone
    This here ain't the average shit, you used to
    Front, and automatic rounds, will shoot you
    So knock it off, like biggie smalls said duke you soft
    Why you wanna fuck with the boss?

    [parrish smith]
    Where should i start? breakin mc's or shatterin charts?
    It's diablo, pmd mic doc with the purple heart
    The go-getter, getter, get wit 'er, hit 'er-split 'er
    Front and back, and if she wit it, straight in the shitter
    So heidi heidi heidi hydro, pack gats and ammo
    +funky piano+, van like the fuckin ?tano?
    With more cheese than lambeau, more heat than rambo
    Break down dismantle when i scramble

    Chorus: erick sermon (parrish smith) *repeat 2x*

    I just get down, and i go for mines
    Say check 1, 2 -- and run down the line
    (inclined to shine) with techs and (forty-four mags and nines)
    Don't get too close because you might get shot

    [erick sermon]
    Uhh, yo, ey, and yo
    Epmd, fuckin with us is bad news
    Me and you got different views
    What you might say is dope, i say's not
    What i might call wack, you'll call hot
    The best thing for you, is to think and hope
    Or get choked, and hung with +the velvet rope+
    Cause you too theatrical, mess around
    And end up smackin you, jackin you, attackin you

    [parrish smith]
    That's why it's crucial, so stay neutral to collect the cash
    Double beaucoup, just rippin up mics, is what my crew do
    Whatever suits you, pull out the burner, fuck the shoot through
    Roadblocks and smear campaigns, with the two-two
    Or tech nine, that'll chew, through your waistline
    I'm accurate, don't waste mine, spit on bassline
    Run with the unseen potential to be on dateline
    I don't fake mine, you blaze crazy, while i pace mine

    [erick sermon]
    Yeah, now why y'all wanna mess with the vets?
    We've been doin this shit, since _dear yvette_, check
    I make shit that make you wanna smack your producer
    And ice grill him, and make you wanna kill him dead
    And walk around leakin, in the bed for the weekend
    For playin with the last mohican
    ?madi gon? - that's fuck you in puerto rican
    Keep quiet when you hear grown men speakin

    [parrish smith]
    Or get smacked, this ain't no game, the shit is serious
    Delerious, that's how we leave cats and niggaz curious
    The true legend, got caught shit you better call kevin
    Big like dog 40 and the dutch from the 7-11
    I'm danger like norris the texas ranger
    The mic strangler, pmd, the fuckin _head banger_
    Mo' skills fo' real for them cats that kill
    Pump a nine on the reg behind penetentiary steel

    Chorus

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