Check 1, 2 Lyrics

from Out Of Business

"Check 1, 2" is track #1 on the album Out Of Business. It was written by Smith, Parrish Joseff / Unknown Co-writer.
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"Check 1, 2" is track #1 on the album Out Of Business. It was written by Smith, Parrish Joseff / Unknown Co-writer.
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EPMD, Def Jam blazin'
Check it, uhh, huh, yo

It's E-Dub on the microphone
My style be Elektra, I'm the male Syl Rhome
Homes, walk around with forty-four chrome
On safety, spike the mic in the end zone

This here ain't the average shit, you used to front
And automatic rounds will shoot you
So knock it off, like Biggie Smalls said
"Duke, you soft, why you wanna fuck with the boss?"

Where should I start? Breakin MCs or shatterin' charts?
It's Diablo, PMD, Mic Doc with the purple heart
The go-getter, getter, get wit 'er, hit 'er, split 'er
Front and back and if she wit it, straight in the shitter

So Heidi, Heidi, Heidi, hydro, pack gats and ammo
[Unverified]
With more cheese than Lambeau, more heat than Rambo
Break down, dismantle, when I scramble

I just get down and I go for mines
Say check 1, 2 and run down the line
Inclined to shine with techs and forty-four mags and nines
Don't get too close because you might get shot

I just get down and I go for mines
Say check 1, 2 and run down the line
Inclined to shine with techs and forty-four mags and nines
Don't get too close because you might get shot

Uhh, yo, hey and yo!
EPMD fuckin' with us is bad news
Me and you got different views
What you might say is dope, I say's not
What I might call wack, you'll call hot

The best thing for you is to think and hope
Or get choked and hung with the velvet rope
'Cause you too theatrical, mess around
And end up smackin' you, jackin' you, attackin' you

That's why it's crucial, so stay neutral to collect the cash
Double beaucoup, just rippin' up mics is what my crew do
Whatever suits you, pull out the burner, fuck the shoot through
Roadblocks and smear campaigns with the two-two

Or tech nine that'll chew through your waistline
I'm accurate, don't waste mine, spit on bassline
Run with the unseen potential to be on Dateline
I don't fake mine, you blaze crazy while I pace mine

Yeah, now why y'all wanna mess with the vets?
We've been doin' this shit since [unverified]
I make shit that make you wanna smack your producer
And ice grill him and make you wanna kill him dead

And walk around leakin' in the bed for the weekend
For playin' with the last Mohican
[Unverified], that's fuck you in Puerto Rican
Keep quiet when you hear grown men speakin'

Or get smacked, this ain't no game, the shit is serious
Delerious, that's how we leave cats and niggaz curious
The true legend got caught, shit, you better call Kevin
Big like Dog 40 and the Dutch from the 7-11

I'm danger like Norris, the Texas ranger
The mic strangler, PMD, the fuckin' head banger
Mo' skills fo' real for them cats that kill
Pump a nine on the reg behind penetentiary steel

I just get down and I go for mines
Say check 1, 2 and run down the line
Inclined to shine with techs and forty-four mags and nines
Don't get too close because you might get shot

Songwriters
Smith, Parrish Joseff / Unknown Co-Writer

Published by
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group

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