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Simon Says (remix) Lyrics - Singles - Pharoahe Monch

GET THE FUCK UP! 

Simon says "GET THE FUCK UP!" 

Throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!) 

Queens is in the back sippin 'Gnac, y'all wassup? 

Girls, rub on your titties (yeah) 

Yeah fuck it I said it rub on ya titties 

New York City gritty committee, pity the fool that act shitty 

In the midst of the calm, the witty 

 

(Lady Luck) 

Yo SHUT THE FUCK UP! 

Luck said "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" 

Bitches 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 cocked, smacked or fucked up 

Pull the truck up, Luck you know the name 

Assed out in the bleachers stay shittin on the game 

I suppose what you're spittin is flames, cowards 

Know your crew was vaginal, 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 

 

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(Pharoahe Monch) 

WHAT THE FUCK'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,? cinematography state of mind 

My rap trip, rip, clip, say the rhyme 

Shit, I spectacular run hit spit bitches venacular 

Miraculous rhyme flow, back track to the Immaculate 

Binaca blast nigga that's fast, son I'll box ya 

Ladies rub the ta-ta's, bras, titties and knockers on the floor 

OWWW! Fellas pull ya cock out 

On the verge to splurge verbs for third round knock out 

Uh I bust a rhyme that dust frustrated rappers 

Dust crush competition, lights out like the Clapper 

The mic ripper, whip a nigga like a slave 

Separate him from him from his fam, he don't know how to behave 

Now, drag his ass, bag dun for his loot 

Figure me to give a nigger-y twenty-one gun salute 

That's seven shots for Tupac 

Seven for Biggie Smalls 

Seven for Freaky Tah up in your neighborhood malls 

How's that, fat action packed rap remain tame 

Pharoahe fuckin Monch, ain't a damn thing changed 

 

Photos 

 

(Redman) 

Yo yo get the fuck up 

Funk Doctor Spot said "Get the fuck up" 

I got a bitch named Nina and I tuck her 

I leave a nigga hangin like ya mom's muffler 

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 pussy 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) Fuck the limelight, we rhyme tight, plus snatch the goods 

Yea-yeah my nigga, one rhyme you fold over 

I'm hot-headed cuz I walk wit cold shoulders 

Yeah GET THE FUCK UP! 

 

(Pharoahe Monch) 

Simon Says "GET THE FUCK UP!" 

Throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!) 

 

(Redman) 

Jersey in the back jackin cars now wassup! 

Girls, rub on ya titties 

(Yeah) That's right I said it, rub on ya titties 

Brick City gritty committee 

Pity the fool that act shitty, in the midst of the calm, the witty 

 

(Method Man) 

Yo yo get the fuck up 

Yo yeah I said it, get the fuck 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 

Assholes 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 passion 

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'ma feel this world when it kill me 

Even if time stands still, I'ma 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 MOTHAFUCKERS! 

 

(Shabaam Sahdeeq) 

My thugs, throw up ya set 

And shorties rub on ya breasts 

GET THE FUCK UP, outta that dress, I palm tits 

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 Canal I'll praise that link, then pawn that link 

You froze up, Sahdeeq says "Shut the fuck up!" 

Punk niggas get gun-butt up and tied up 

 

(Busta Rhymes) 

Busta Rhymes is like Hacksaw Jim Dugan 

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 coke 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 space 

Fuck a fat lip, I'll leave you wit a fuckin fat face 

Nigga, 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 

Bitches, snitches comin out and you know who's showin it 

Like when British civil servants pass secrets to the Soviets 

Y'all niggas is seemless blends of seemless friends 

Live on about? on a bunch of seamless ends 

Collosal, me and my nigga 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 nigga shit that'll rebuild your whole self-esteem 

Pledge allegiance to the flag of united live niggas of America 

Let us control and own the fuckin area 

Wildin in your whip until your crash the whole truck up 

And if you know what's good for you nigga you better GET THE FUCK UP! 

Hehehe 

Writer:

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