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internal affairs - pharoahe monch lyrics

[pharoahe monch]
get the f-ck up!
simon says “get the f-ck up!”
throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!)
queens is in the back sippin ‘gnac, y’all w-ssup?
girls, rub on your t-tties (yeah)
yeah f-ck it i said it rub on ya t-tties
new york city gritty committee, pity the fool that act sh-tty
in the midst of the calm, the witty

[lady luck]
yo shut the f-ck up!
luck said “shut the f-ck up!”
b-tches 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 c-cked, smacked or f-cked up
pull the truck up, luck you know the name
-ssed out in the bleachers stay sh-ttin on the game
i suppose what you’re spittin is flames, cowards
know your crew was v-g-n-l, 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

[pharoahe monch]
what the f-ck’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, clip, say the rhyme
sh-t, i spectacular run hit spit b-tches venacular
miraculous rhyme flow, back track to the immaculate
binaca blast n-gga that’s fast, son i’ll box ya
ladies rub the ta-ta’s, bras, t-tties and knockers on the floor
owww! fellas pull ya c-ck out
on the verge to splurge verbs for third round knock out
uh i bust a rhyme that dust frustrated rappers
dust crush compet-tion, lights out like the clapper
the mic ripper, whip a n-gga like a slave
separate him from him from his fam, he don’t know how to behave
now, drag his -ss, bag dun for his loot
figure me to give a n-gga-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 f-ckin monch, ain’t a d-mn thing changed

[redman]
yo yo get the f-ck up
funk doctor spot said “get the f-ck up”
i got a b-tch named nina and i tuck her
i leave a n-gga hangin like ya mom’s m-ffler
snuff her, then my boys follow up
respect like the fonze, 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 p-ssy 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 ?lauren harts?
nineteen inches, i’m not on the charts
doc turnin dark off a warning shot
drive off and pop, six in ya hood
[monch] f-ck the limelight, we rhyme tight, plus sn-tch the goods
yea-yeah my n-gga, one rhyme you fold over
i’m hot-headed cuz i walk wit cold shoulders
yeah get the f-ck up!

[pharoahe monch]
simon says “get the f-ck up!”
throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!)

[redman]
jersey in the back jackin cars now w-ssup!
girls, rub on ya t-tties
(yeah) that’s right i said it, rub on ya t-tties
brick city gritty committee
pity the fool that act sh-tty, in the midst of the calm, the witty

[method man]
yo yo get the f-ck up
yo yeah i said it, get the f-ck 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 moch, why we came what?
we off the chain, plus we plottin on the chain, what?
know ya role, by the way tuck ya gold
and you and your mic can ease on down the road
-ssh0l-s are like opinions, everybody got to have one
shootin in the sky tryin to blast sun
zero to sixty in a second, pull a fast one
fifty cent flashin they hate us wit a p-ssion
mashin, still fresh in three-day old fashion
your plaid, i’m stripes, together we be flashin
here’s a tunnel banger
wu-tang death penalty, the gas chamber
this gon’ hurt me more than it hurts you
slap ya like the doctor the day your momma birthed you
just so you can feel me
the same way i’mma feel this world when it k!ll me
even if time stands still, i’mma still be
underground and filthy, gotta have our way like the milky
innocent until i’m proven guilty
never got caught in the game of tag
momma never kept a boyfriend wit kids this bad
no justice, raider ruckus!
underground till we under ground
but y’all first mothaf-ckers!

[shabaam sahdeeq]
my thugs, throw up ya set
and shorties rub on ya br–sts
get the f-ck up, outta that dress, i palm t-ts
you herbs get flipped like jeeps on mountain cliffs
i’ll rip through your chest, hollow-point talent tips
double-s, double the threat, double your bet
double up on that cash if you decide to invest
you sound like big, you sound like jay, you sound like d
and i bet, when i go plat, you’ll sound like me
shabaam sahdeeq, injure your fleet into delete
y’all crabs are weak, frail like a fiend’s physique
i stay on the street, stay on the beat, stay wit the heat
stay stickin fools like you for the rocks that gleam
so toss that link, dummy, shoulda insured that link
straight to c-n-l i’ll praise that link, then p-wn that link
you froze up, sahdeeq says “shut the f-ck up!”
punk n-ggas get gun-b-tt up and tied up

[busta rhymes]
busta rhymes is like hacksaw jim duggan, been thuggin
lovin the way we flood jewels for nothin
lay it over, another ambush we take over
yo we don’t only get money, we cut the c0ke and cook the shake over
you better guard your head right, especially if it’s late at night
or find your picture of your autoposy up on the web site
yo if you ever violate my sp-ce
f-ck a fat lip, i’ll leave you wit a f-ckin fat face
n-gga, busta rhymes the handsome, i’ll hold you for ransom ansom
like the ghost in a haunted house, i’ll forever live in a mansion
b-tches, snitches comin out and you know who’s showin it
like when british civil servants p-ss secrets to the soviets
y’all n-ggas is seemless blends of seemless friends
live on about ? ? on a bunch of seamless ends
collosal, me and my n-gga pharoahe moncho
the head honcho, gettin this money like leonardo (do do do)
enough substance in the roughness
now watch it come around in an amazing large abundance
now let me clear the smoke screen you blow fiend
live n-gga sh-t that’ll rebuild your whole self-esteem
pledge allegiance to the flag of united live n-ggas of america
let us control and own the f-ckin area
wildin in your whip until your crash the whole truck up
and if you know what’s good for you n-gga you better get the f-ck up!!!
hehehe

- pharoahe monch lyrics

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