The Fan Lyrics

from Out Of Business

"The Fan" is track #16 on the album Out Of Business. It was written by Smith, Parrish Joseff / Unknown Co-writer.
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"The Fan" is track #16 on the album Out Of Business. It was written by Smith, Parrish Joseff / Unknown Co-writer.
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The Fan Submit Correct Lyrics

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Yo, yo-yo, yo
Aiyyo this here's procedure, rock MC's durin' my leisure
Time I spend to do 'em in
The sound pumps hard and runs right through ya
When it hits, it reacts like a airbag to ya

Some flip to it, small kids might skip to it
And jail cats get rep to it
You get, by on record but you wack on stage
So I'm, blowin' you up, throwin' hand grenades

That's why we roll with the big boys
With big toys, bringin' crazy noise and ruckus
Shuttin' down crews and motherfuckers
In low beta, not to be fucked with like the swamp gator
Potato, on the barrel of the snub nosed when I blaze ya

As I, dust bust, crush and rush
Catch you flossin' nigga, turn your ice physi' into slush
So yo, what's the deally for really
We rock nine untilly, grindin' like Billy
So niggaz chill and spark the Phillie

Yo, I know you was a fan of mine
I know you was a fan of mine
I know you was a fan of mine
Here's my card and on the back of it's my fan club digits

Yo, I know you was a fan of mine
I know you was a fan of mine
I know you was a fan of mine
Here's my card and on the back of it's my fan club digits

Uh, aiyyo takin' our spot, that's outrageous
P and I stomp those who get courageous
And microphones get rocked on stages
Any book or mag, we on a few pages

Not commercial, not frontin', and no movie
I swear, 'cause we take it there
Billboard's top ten, that's tradition
Comin' through blastin' with mad ammunition

Five-alarmer, microphone bomber, woman charmer
Night in armor, penthouse view, with the sauna
God dammit, pass me the rock, and watch me slam it
Jam it cram it, until you stupid niggaz understand it

It's been a long time, MC crabbin' bitch niggaz runnin'
Wack MC's we straight stunnin'
When we roll up, unexpected, undetected
Resurrected, EPMD second wind, fuel-injected

Yo, I know you was a fan of mine
I know you was a fan of mine
I know you was a fan of mine
Here's my card and on the back of it's my fan club digits

Yo, I know you was a fan of mine
I know you was a fan of mine
I know you was a fan of mine
Here's my card and on the back of it's my fan club digits

Word yeah, tell em P, yo
I never seen y'all before, when I came through
With my dogs headbangin' with the 'Hit Squad crew'
Hardcore, we got biz from the get go
Any beef with us, we ain't lettin' shit go

E-Dub, no one replacin' me
If there's a spot, then find a vacancy
Boy, I own my style, while y'all got leases
I get the whole pie, while y'all get pieces

That's why we own, bitin' our shit, we don't condone
News flash, Erick and Parrish, we got it sewn
And like I'm Damon we Dash for the cash, mash for the fash'
Bashin' the rash, double up P, straight on smidash

So stop playin', serious like 'So What Cha Sayin'?'
In Apollo sold out with Red man, fuckin' headbangin'
To the street corners, the back alleys, to the Cali valleys
EPMD in effect, chillin' as the scans tally

Songwriters
Smith, Parrish Joseff / Unknown Co-Writer

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

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