EPMD

You know what I'm saying? They combined the house, the hip hop, funk and all that stuff, but they were just so dope.

And it was a combination of Mob Top and a lot of people may remember Fendi, who was the EPMD's dancer.

And we would watch these videos all the time and it got me more engulfed into dance.

While we're watching that, we would roll the Soul Train.

So by the time the Loop Pack comes out, we get to, you know, what style or what are we gonna speak on and speak on that.

I just wanted to do music that I knew would make people wanna dance, specifically the B-Boys and B-Girls.

So the idea was, if you really pay attention to that sample, it's from the So What You're Saying from EPMD.

Then you got the essence of the MC, KRS-One.

Here's what's underneath that.

That's a love song built on top of EPMD.

The track flips to You're a Customer.

Y'all remember that? Which is why if you pull the credits on this sweet floating record about missing somebody, you'll find Eric Sermon and Parrish Smith sitting there as writers.

Get your high school diploma, go to j-

j-College, get a degree and start makin' dollars Only one thing wrong, and it's a trip Inner-city schools don't teach us shit Got us stuck on stupid, straight S.O.S Can't get nothin' but they payin' the rest of them fools All around the world in the other countries And should be spendin' that money right here In the state of California You graduate and can't spell "diploma" Dip to the hood and get rich Slangin' rocks to a smoked out bitch No school'll come close to that A few transactions make my pockets fat I make a lot of money and that ain't no lie I'll probably ball 'til the day I die And if I didn't, so what? I bet you I'd still come up 'Cause there's a whole lot of money in the ghetto Yeah, you know Hey, hey, hey What you got to say? They got money in the ghetto All the money They got money in the ghetto, ooh-woah Cannon Let us formally introduce ourselves Get Money Kaine (The Cannon) The number one co-sign of the game, Don Cannon Extreme Customs And the homie Twista (Cannon) Back by popular demand in the hood (Yes, yes y'all) We reloadin' Yes, yes y'all, you don't stop, uh I'm Twista, bitch, I'm on some different shit Midwest immersible, call me magnificent I'm back on, my clique strong Lost the iPhone, it's back to the brick phone Suede suit, jogging suit with the dookie rope Curry curl, countin' money like I'm Flukey Stokes I'm on the hunt for paper, player, and daily profits Raccoon hat with the tail, call me Davy Crockett I'm old school, I'm so cool Ring on my fingers go across all four, fool Huh, takin' it back to gold nugget charms From a Chevy Malibu to a Cherokee To an Audi, to an Ac, to a Saab Now I'm pickin' up the pace EPMD swag when I spit it to the bass Mad 'cause MB and me ain't gonna have it When a rapper somewhere nigga finna hate I remember when the walls had graffiti on it Took a look at 'em next summer, now they got GD on it Yes, yes y'all, you don't stop I-I fuck her first, then hustle up and hit the weed spot Yes, yes y'all, you don't stop Now, now flip your work and double up and go and re-cop I get street money, money, street money, money, money I'm, I'm old school, I'm old school I get rap money, money, rap money, money, money I'm, I'm old school, I'm old school I'm back on, my money very long Nefertiti on a three-inch thick herringbone Slang bo, slang dope or where your gang go I'm paid in full, bitch, check out my fur and Kangol Remember when you used to get it for the dirty, for the bo? Every rapper in the game or the industry could get over thirty for the show 'Cause it was all good when we was on thirties and Vogues Now they make niggas out here pay over thirty for those Damn, let's take it back, who can you tell got 'em? Pop-lockin', my True Religions look like bell bottoms Let's take it back to when you used to get work cheap If you the man, you can still get it dirt cheap I'm so old school, but I smoke dro, fool Ain't no more real to real, it's Logic and Pro Tools I'm too old-fashioned for you, don't try to play me, hater Antenna and the TV close on the radiator Yes, yes y'all, you don't stop I-I fuck her first, then hustle up and hit the weed spot Yes, yes y'all, you don't stop Now, now flip your work and double up and go and re-cop I get street money, money, street money, money, money I'm, I'm old school, I'm old school I get rap money, money, rap money, money, money I'm, I'm old school, I'm old school That's fact King of the ghetto What's up, Face? Big homie I greet the Father on my knees With a bowed head and a humbled heart My conversation is, "Have mercy on me, please" I just wanna be happy, will it come to pass? Fresh out of my mind, been twenty-seven years And every day I've seen is sad Even though I've tried 'til I've cried, I can't even stand Feels like I've died a thousand times and just can't make it, man Ain't nothin' different about me doin' dirt Except I've never crept up on a come-up Maybe that's why the hustlin' hurts I remember just like it was yesterday, I'm sixteen Can't find no love, can't find no peace, I wonder what it mean Could it be because I didn't choose the devil all the time? I became an outcast of the hood, restricted to my rhyme Why could not just live my life without my talent makin' danger? Jealousy has now stayed jailed from friends that turned to strangers They hate me, I don't understand why I swear I never seen a man cry 'til it was my own eye I'm twenty-one and think I finally got a grip on life An all bills paid apartment, a stepson and a stepwife But without a vehicle, it's kind of hard to get around If I got weed, I'll ride for free, if not, my partners let me down So now I'm livin' to be one deep, so much I'm hatin' people Lookin' at everybody, even baby like they Satan's people Nobody understand me, everybody's trippin' with me Wonder why when I got a ride, why none of my people flip me with me Too many haters tryna take a player off the

theTo be ballerific, I'm just tryna have something.

It's just like crabs in a bucket, these people pull me down.

Okay.

A la Naughty by Nature, Bone Thugs, Dog Pound, Tribe Called Quest, Public Enemy, Black Sheep, Lost Boys, EPMD, and so on and so on.

It's like, but not De La.

Why is it? in your humble opinions, that we just cannot have more hip-hop groups, and not Wu-Tang, more hip-hop groups that stay together.

It is an interesting concept.

It is human nature.

But legacy groups, that's a good point because nobody, none of these, the salts, the EPMDs, none of these people are making money without the group.

You know, now EPMD, they don't fuck with each other.