Chill - EPMD

Equipped with the rap microchip

Program, aptitude, one mo' return, aww

My face in the magazines, showin my eyes green

(«CHILL.») Chill, freshly dipped when I’m seen

Yo, dig, it’s the new fig for the E-Double

I pack a Mac-10 just in case of trouble

Hot like a handle on a pot, I’m steamin

Fame and more glory than Morgan Freeman

I’m the original, my style’s deformed

So it can sound crazy ill when I perform

Yeah, check one two mic supreme

EPMD, the rap American Dream Team

The E-Double's definitely no joke

You can’t see me, even with a microscope

I’m massive dope, funky, who’s deffer

Yo, when I express myself like Salt 'N Pepa

Erick Sermon and Parrish Smith

The sickest, the wickest, crazy mad psycho, the slickest

Hardcore rhymin, yeah, that’s the ticket

Buckwhylin, rough enough for Long Island

«CHILL.

CHILL.

Chill.

chill.»

«CHILL.

CHILL.

Chill.

chill.»

«Yeaaaah!

Ha ha ha»

«Rough enough to break New York from Long Island»

Back up, boy, move easy with the hand motion

Don’t even blink kid, or I’mma start smokin

The Glock hammer’s cocked with the speed shot

Twelve shots, the bust target is the brown fox

So call me smooth talk, rhyme jaywalk wit the slang talk

B-boy fanatic, straight from New York

The foundation, landmark of the rap scene

EPMD in effect, I’m clockin mad green

Like Kermit the Frog, sloppy like Boss Hog

Girl was runnin wild, ate her like a corndog

Four mics are ready to flow in slow mo'

Know the rap game just like Bo knows hoes

(«Yeaaaah! Ha ha ha»)

Hard, you get scarred, messin wit the Hit Squad

Slide easy or catch a bullshucks charge

No time to ill, stay mental or puff a pill

Get the macadamians, and oh yeah kid, chill

«CHILL.

CHILL.

Chill.

chill.»

(*repeat to fade*)