Simmons Incorporated Lyrics - Crown Royal - Run D.m.c.

(feat. Method Man, Dig Dast, Gold D, Jamel Simmons) 

[Intro: Dig Dast (Jamel Simmons) {Gold D}] 

Yo my nigga Jamel Simmons what the deal nigga? 

(Gold D, Dig Dast what's goin down, what's goin down) 

{Aight, what's goin on, what's goin on 

What's the deal pa, where you headed son?} 

(Yo I'm bout to go to the studio and lay smash hit 

Wit my Uncle Run, boy) 

{Word?} Ain't he a Reverend now, collectin plates 

At churches and shit? 

(He's spittin flames right now baby 

He at the top of his game, right now 

I'm tellin, I'm show you, watch 

Youknowhatimean? He's a born again, hooligan) 

Uh-huh 

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[Jamel Simmons] 

I'm red rum, Reverend Run, brother son, earthquakin 

Industry shakin, you kiddin me? We money makin 

Your money fake son, I'll call you clay cuz you get's Play-Doh 

Jamel and Joey Simmons holdin millions on the lay low 

Platinum hailos, hero heads high from hydro 

Hit the dime on the combo, she try to diss my rhyme flow 

She ain't know we only glamorous like Phat Farm fashion 

Simmons name sinamous wit this cash 

It's our passion... what!? 

Photos 

[Run] 

Yo basically I'm here to rename rap, it ain't rap no more 

Call it Simmons Incorporated, since '74 

Lotta money in this fam, think about it 

Me wit Run-D.M.C., and him over at Def Jam 

Well damn, how the hell you think we livin? 

How you think it feel to be a Simmons 

Imagine Christmas and Thanksgiving 

People wanna know why I ain't on my brother's label 

If I did this whole rap game be unstable 

Went over to Arista wit Mr. Davis, for the change of neighbors 

It's only fair that we share those naked papers 

You can tell a cat serious about rap and it ain't luck 

If 20 years after his first single, his name's stuck 

From '74 to '99, did novice to king, wit a million 

MC's waitin in line 

Keep a barrel on this album if my man's and them rise 

[Method Man] 

Now speed it up, uh 

[Chorus 2X: Run] 

Run really make ya wanna drop, drop 

Now wanna make ya go live, live 

Now wanna make ya go live, live 

Now hold up 

[Method Man] 

Now I walked on ice and never fell 

I spent my time in a plush hotel 

John-John Phenomenon, deadly but calm 

Word to my born, dead by dawn 

Got the right to bear arm, ring the alarm! 

Another sound boy dyin, hot irons 

Slugs flyin out the hardware appliance 

Baby mamma cryin, sobbin and grievin 

You was at aws wit them kids till they made it even 

Let down ya guard, yes you did, now you barely breathin 

To unaware, open season on a duck, we don't give a what 

Yo best best to give it up 

Sho indeed, let's Run D's MC's, they phony 

Some hump free, they mad bogey 

Saddle up ya horse, if the sunset mosey 

Jam Master Jay deserve a trophy for this track, right? 

Futuristic G past type, if that's yo girlfriend 

She wasn't last night punk, little boy 

Stylin mad chump, ain't no wins here 

This sport's extreme, know what I mean? 

Gettin royalty, +Down With the King+! 

[D.M.C.] 

Crack, crack, cracks in the cradle 

Cracks, in the cradle 

Cracks in the cradle, cokes in the spoon 

Little Boy Blue higher than the moon 

Will he, will he want a weapons, will he wanted the wound 

I come to school and lay down the rules 

Two, two, two channel empty guzzle, brake gallons of drop 

Shorty wit the forty, once sport in the dark 

Co-co-corner, black as a goner 

Didn't really wanna call my momma in Savannah 

[Mike Ransom] 

I spit dynamite ignite turn off lights 

Recite, spit poetry type, get my squad physically hype 

Get a hundred blast from Funkmaster, crush ya life 

+Blast+ Time to go now, show these fake rappers the way to go down 

Down With The Kings, like Smokey down wit Motown 

Who wanna come and see, come and test me 

Take about a million MC's to wet me 

For Run-D.M.C. I let shells fly, freein the five 

Wit the red eye, niggas talkin to much 

Tape 'em up, leave 'em hog tied 

[Kenny Cash] 

You thinkin about it way to hard, how to get down wit the Gods 

Kenny Cash, the Bronx cat, but it'll ride wit gats 

Peep chicks huggin the sacks, yours scratchin the back 

I'mma shark in a shack, y'all cats is feedin the fish 

Now hate and feed wit clips, nigga that leave you ripped 

And I'm leavin 'em dry, shit's crushed wit bleadin lips 

Bet I, leave these chips, and a C.L.K. 

After I hang plaques in the spot wit Run, D and Jay 

[Chorus 4X]