Video Epmd 2 de Nas 2024 Cristiana Lyrics

Nas - Epmd 2 Lyrics

EPMD 2 Song Lyrics
EPMD 2 by Nas Respectfully
Bucket on low like Erick and Parrish
Closed casket flow all you niggas get deaded
They don't give you one single rose while you can smell it
So I pick from my own garden
Wanna go out in my garden like Godfather
Grandkids and a rottweiler got over the block trauma
So Wat Cha Sayin' nigga? You gots to chill
Thinkin' you the truth really you not for real
Back to back with' it the hardest sh*t of the year

(Remix)
EPMD we back in business
Ain't nobody f**kin' with us, come to your senses
P is the second coming of God something to witness
Piece of sh*t fly on your head like Mike Pence's
We in the trenches
I'm mad, better yet I'm on a Rampage
My people can't even get minimum wage
f**k a stimulus
Give me some interest
Give me a loan
Give me a home
Get 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 it's all behind me

EPMD we back in business
I visualize what is it, not what is isn't
We at the mafia table next to the kitchen
Eatin' Michelin Stars, coutin' a million
Done
I let it go for the family meetings, and coated Miami, the wine bottles on Maggie-extra large
Sign up for my master class, Escobar
Feed up and met Sadie, I'm at my restaurant
Clouded from hazy the daily, she know my thoughts get crazy
My teachers they couldn't grade me, I know some Haitians in Dave County
Got choppas in Haiti, she booked a flight to Colombia
I made her body amazing, just to post it on tumblr
This that f**k up the summer sh*t, I don't care what you comin' with
We in here boy, running sh*t
Big dough, gold chains, but they flooded now
Pull with the ghost like a haunted house
She gettin' scary blood on my hands, like 'Carrie'
Might walk through a cemetery and see where Hip-Hop is buried
I said it was dead, but I faked this death like it was Machiavelli
You see letters in red splatter looks like sauce on spaghetti

(Ya, ready?)
EMPD, we're back in business
Living in cr*p conditions, we'll give you ammunition
Got no shells? I got more shells like Taco Bell and I'm not gon' fail
I got no elves like Christmas
You don't wanna make the Claus come out
Y'all should call yourselves Santa (Why?)
'Cause none of y'all are real
Nah, not a single one
Like a dollar bill
Like your b**ch on the pellet
She's on the pill
We gonna bond and chill
Never bail on me, not even outta jail
EMPD, homie I got them chills
Just a lotta skrill
Lady, my paper's so crazy
I just tossed a mill' out the window, went on the bill on the freeway on my way here
Like Rudolph when his homies are pullin' the sleigh, yeah
A lot of bucks flyin' when I'm making it rain, dear
Green on me but no weed shortie, I just sneezed, darling
No pocket full of pills, sold my Tylenol, three solids, for three molly
This summer eve with tree reminds me of rap summary
Mami, my theme song, me and Pete
Always use to play that sh*t on repeat all day, so please call me "Big Daddy"
Plus I got the cane and lean on me
It seems I'm eating you B-I-T-C-H-E-S like tortilla chips, me, I'm free up to green up like chias on chia pets
This is the effects of my whole neighborhood, misery index, poverty it is people stealing and PSTD
I guess R-I-P out to DMX, Jeez Louis, and MC Ecstasy
And Biz Markie B, and do my hit 50 via text, 'cause I don't even know when I'ma see 'em next
Tomorrow could be a death
Yeah, and this sh*t ain't for the faint
The brains of the train kill the danger, derange and I drink all the ink on the blank on the paper
And wait till the page fill up up pinks full of shame for the strength of the pain, pour the drink, I just pray for the day that I'm able to say
That I'm place with the greats, and my name's with the Kings and the Waynes and the Jays and the Yay's and the Drakes and the Jakes and the Jade, it's cool Jade
The rhymes are amazing, the schnazz is embracing the gods that shout out to the golden age of hip hop and the name of this song is-

EPMD we back in business
I visualize what is it, not what is isn't
We at the mafia table next to the kitchen
Eatin' Michelin Stars, coutin' a million