Pharaohe Monch - Simon Says (Remix) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Pharaohe Monch
• Simon Says (Remix)

[Hook: Pharoahe Monch]
Get the fuck up!
Simon says get the fuck up!
Throw ya hands in the sky (Bo! Bo! Bo! Bo! Bo!)
Queens is in the back sipping 'gnac, y'all wassup?
Girls, rub on your titties (yeah)
Yeah fuck it I said it rub on ya titties
New York City gritty committee, pity the fool that act shitty
In the midst of the calm, the witty

[Verse 1: Lady Luck]
Yo shut the fuck up!
Luck said shut the fuck up!
Bitches in the back, like crack get it cut up
I speak on behalf of them broads you call stuck up
Act like a man and get cocked, smacked or fucked up
Pull the truck up, Luck you know the name
Ass out in the bleachers stay shittin' on the game
I suppose what you're spittin' is flames, cowards
Knew your crew was vaginal, I could smell the dooch powder
Summer's Eve, I drop degrees chill
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly till you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now that's real

[Verse 2: Pharoahe Monch]
What the fuck's goin' on here, just a minute now, hold up
Sinister wit hit the time I diminish him finish him, roll up
When I'm - in a, cinematography state of mind
My rap trip, rip, flip, clip, say the rhyme
Shit, I spectacular run hit spit bitches vernacular
Miraculous rhyme flow, back track to the Immaculate
Binaca blast nigga that's fast, son I'll out-box ya
Ladies rub the ta-ta's, bras, titties and knockers on the floor
Owww! Fellas pull ya cock out
On the verge to splurge verbs for third round knock out
Uh I bust a rhyme that dust frustrated rappers
Dust crush competition, lights out like the Clapper
The mic ripper, whip a nigga like a slave
Separate him from him from his fam, he don't know how to behave
Now, drag his ass, bag dun for his loot
Figure me to give a nigger-y twenty-one gun salute
That's seven shots for 2pac
Seven for Biggie Smalls
Seven for Freaky Tah up in your neighborhood malls
How's that, fat action packed rap remain tame
Pharoahe fuckin' Monch, ain't a damn thing changed

[Verse 3: Redman]
Yo yo get the fuck up!
Funk Doctor Spock said get the fuck up!
I got a bitch named Nina and I tuck her
I leave a nigga hangin' like ya mom's muffler
Snuff her, then my boys follow up
Respect like The Fonz, you see the collar up
I spit out a bullet, load the barrel up
I kamikaze ya town off a Arab bus
Karat cut, yeah mami pull over
I bend ya pussy like for years I knew yoga
I'm too smoked up, I can't remember me
Off Hennesy, that's why I carry Mini-Me
I need fifty feet when my performance starts
I push a armored car wit (?)
Nineteen inches, I'm not on the charts
Doc turnin' dark off a warning shot
Drive off and pop, six in ya hood
([Monch] Fuck the limelight, we rhyme tight, plus snatch the goods)
Yea-yeah my nigga, one rhyme and you fold over
I'm hot-headed cause I walk with cold shoulders

[Hook: Pharoahe Monch and Redman]
Yeah get the fuck up!
Simon Says get the fuck up!
Throw ya hands in the sky (Bo! Bo! Bo! Bo! Bo!)
Jersey in the back, jackin' cars, now wassup?
Girls, rub on ya titties
(Yeah) That's right I said it, rub on ya titties
Brick City, gritty committee, pity the fool that act shitty
In the midst of the calm, the witty

[Verse 4: Method Man]
Yo yo get the fuck up!
Yo yeah I said it, get the fuck up!
Walk through Shaolin after dark, you get stuck up
Seek and destroy, baddest boy when I'm puffed up
Ya know my name, and Pharoahe Monch, why we came what?
We off the chain, plus we plottin on the game, what?
Know ya role, by the way tuck ya gold
And you and your mic can ease on down the road
Assholes are like opinions, everybody got to have one
Shootin' in the sky tryin' to blast sun
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