PMD - Rap is Still Outta Control lyrics

[Busta Rhymes] Rap is outta control! Hey, hey rap, rap.. (for sure dude) wait what, wait Aiy, rap is outta control Hold on! [B.R.] Yeah yeah yeah yeah, yi-yeah yeah yeah yi-yeah yeah [P.S.] Erick and Parrish, Busta Bus, check it [B.R.] This is one of my favorites [P.S.] Aight? So check it, check it [B.R.] Yeah [P.S.] Outta control [E.S.] F'real, rap is outta control, like that (For sure dude!) [P.S.] PMD, still Makin Dollars [E.S.] Uh-huh, rap's outta control (For sure dude!) [both] Yo, yo.. [Erick Sermon] I be pulsatin dominatin, up above Run-D.M.C. style, stop and show love E-Dub, I can't fall off, it's no way, I'm down low I stay in the cut with O.J The fact is, some things got to change With eight or more rappers that sound the same With the, same game, like they all in the same gang And claim the same fame Suicide victims, quick to jump off and scream I Have to die, I'm livin a lie Fake MC's no heart, get torn apart Messin with us? In ninety-nine, get smart I be the last one you wanna play with Rap committees call me, just to okay sh** Focus on me, I grab the mic and drop gems On a ill rhyme, more flashier than rims Step in in tan Timb's, a pocket full of ends with a Couple of friends and a couple of hens Never boring, keep sh** rocking til morning With the bird, until the hawks start hawking Bounce with me, me and my man keep things hittin Hop in the Benz 2000 Benz with the CD skippin EPMD, who's f**in with it Outta control like 2Pac in _Juice_, character Bishop Who's inferior? My Squad be Def And we ain't hearin ya, lounge in the black interior Because.. [Busta Rhymes] HAH! Yes.. ha, rap is outta control! Ha, hey hey rap is outta control! (for sure dude) Yo, aiy, rap is outta control! (for sure dude) Aiyyo, ey, rap is outta control! [Parrish Smith] Yo, they took our music and our beat and tried to make it street Then got in the magazine and tried to sound all sweet When it came to EPMD no one said a word So I called up Erick Sermon and said, "This sh**'s absurd!" Now we flip the bird, back-breakin MC's down like herbs Redlinin, bendin my chrome rims up on curbs So can you make a bill and chill and survive in the rap field? Flip deals, and co*k back burners when the caps peel? I don't think so, then come next the car repo No mo' contract, just strictly handyman in Home Depot So don't front for me or the E, cause you know our steez EPMD, blazin sh**, Def 2G's Cause we make tape and break MC's who wannabeez And gonna-beez, burn em down to third degrees You heard of me, ain't no one checkin or servin me I'll turn your 411 into the 911 emergency Surgeon see [Busta Rhymes] Hah.. hah, rap is outta control! Hey, hey rap, rap .. wait, what wait (for sure dude) Hey, rap is outta control! Hold on Wait wait, rap rap is outta control! And yes yes y'all (yes y'all) ay, yes y'all (yes y'all) Aiyyo kick it E! [Erick Sermon] I stand tall I won't fall, I recall Ha hah, your rhymes stall when you bust caps Make sure they krytonite caps I'm made of steel, I swat bullets like gnats I'm like, (*singing*) Superman... fly high... .. way up in the sky .. And if you try to shoot me down clown I won't die I cremate [Parrish Smith] I hate, let's exterminate Wait for a second E, time to debate As we take our Fisherman hat off, there's no time to max On the crab MC, who's all on the bozack Who knows that, 2000 Benz to shows that Yo, sold out crowd, where's the hoes at? And the Old Gold black, icy cold fat Wack MC's yo, where's your clothes at? End the drama, that's word to your momma..