House Party

It's like this y'all it's like that y'all

It's like this y'all it's like that y'all

It's like this y'all it's like that y'all

This is the year for the barbaric and the cats with skills

Underground with the hoodie, fuck keeping it real

While you was pissing in your bed, we was making a mill'

Got up, with Erick Sermon, dropped "you gots 2 chill"

Then niggas bugged, turned hardcore b-boy, slash thug

Giving fake love, with fake hugs, to fake thugs

With fake mugs, running they mouth with the place bugged

And caught a slug, and no one see nothing but mask and gloves

Hey yo likewise I come in strong with no disguise, ruthless

It's me, transformed I'm eazy-e

Past the point of rocking the joint

I'm blowing the spot, wrecking the scene with my team

niggas for life, so feel that

I see a few clowns, so where's the steel at

Me and my boys are ready, aim that and hold it steady

For those who dream, believe I'm freddie

Now yo, if you got more dollars in your pocket

Put a peace sign in the air if you from the south bronx

And let me hear you say

Hell yeah hell yeah

Say hell yeah hell yeah

Hey yo, I grab the mic and strike, explode and ignite

Off the head, reminscing about some shit last night

No dough, in the pocket but that shit's alright

And these fagots, always stress me so I keep my shit tight

Who am i? the cat to put that ass on standby

Fuck your sister, then chill with you, then tell her man hi

Then start stalking, three point shot like Hershey Hawkins

Taking it back to the seventy-sixers like Johnny Dawkins

Yo I come through camouflaged with the squadron entourage

Lookin like ghetto superstars

Epmd's the name, there's no mistaken

I rob you for all you got, and keep takin

The blah-blah buck off like a wild jamaican

Earthquakin and dominatin the situation

Yes on the scene, the duo, thorough

Lettin off, causin ruckus in five boroughs

Yo this shout out goes to brownsville, you know what i'm sayin?

On ? avenue, newport garden squadron

Epmd, you know what i'm saying?

To the brentwood posse, somebody just say

Make money money, make money money money

Make money money, make money money money

Everybody say make money money, make money money money

Make money money, make money money money

Yo, who grabs the mic and spit flows while you swing low

I'm high off the indo, but straight up, you gets no wins though

I like to ill, pop corks and watch the mo' spill

Hundred dollar bills dipping po-nine while my niggas chill

Yo yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, p chill chill chill

Niggas is in here fighting b

Yo lounge out man, God damn, niggas is always fucking up shit

Just put some shit on they can dance to then