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Interpret:
Salt N Pepa
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| Get Up Everybody
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Ok, yall, this is it now bust it
The mic will sing soon as I touch it
Do this smooth and easy like
So we might get hyped in here tonight
Be nice, relax, MCs further back
If you aint with that
Im-a have to attack you with a bad rap
That can smack the smile off your face Jack
So dont start no crap
Givin a little bit of heart and soul
As we do it to you in your earhole
Huh, I aint going out like a sucker
And if you think so, boy, then pucker up
And kiss the butt of this lyricist
Blow on the mic and make a wish
This groove is set to soothe and move you
Party people now its time to
Get up, I think the sound will make you
Get up, word up, I swear you got to
Get up, everybody get up
Get up, everybody get up
Get up, everybody get up
Spinderella my DJs a turntable trooper
My partner Pepa shes a power booster
Word to life, I swear, shell seduce ya
Dont take my word, Ill introduce her
I dont need no introduction, I just bust in
Grab a microphone and then start dustin
So-called lyricists can never deal with this
Swift-lipped vocalists either and also if
I was a mute, Id still knock boots
Put up your dukes, troop, and Im-a play ya like a flute
To show you all on me you cant sleep on
Spinderella, please drop some beats on
This crowd, pump it up loud
Gimme a scratch, ok now
Its time for hell to be raised
As I kick some lyrics on the beats Hurb made
Salts at my side with a shotgun
A little action? I just had some
What can I say? The girl dont play
Gonna skip town on Judgement Day
So dont just sit there like a poo-putt stupid
The records called "Get Up", I think you better do it
Get up, everybody get up
Get up, everybody get up
Get up, everybody get up
Salty thats me flippin on MCs
Im not gonna waste your time on the strength, Ill be
Def, dumb, dope, completely phenominal
You didnt know? Yeah, right, come on now
Oh, Im supposed to believe E-M-C-E-Es
Are glad Salt is makin Gs?
Save that crap, I got my public to rap to
Tried to play me out, I ought to slap you, punk
For being disrespectful
I grip the microphone like a pitbull terrier
Yes, but Im scarier, under a ton of rhymes Ill bury ya
Hyped like a poet, on the mic Ill show it
Do-re-mi fa-so-la ti-do it
Jazz, rhythm, blues, soul, pop, rock n roll, even hip-hop
Lovers, are my brothers and sisters
All in all over ten billion listeners
Lend me your ear when you want to hear
The hypest and ripest sound of the year
Get up, everybody get up...
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Eingetragen |
16.Aug.2001 21:08:56 |
Letzer Aufruf |
03.Dec.2004 08:12:41 |
Besucher |
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