Listen to Simon Says [Remix] [feat. Lady Luck, Method Man, Redman, Shabaam Sahdeeq & Busta Rhymes] by Pharoahe Monch

Simon Says [Remix] [feat. Lady Luck, Method Man, Redman, Shabaam Sahdeeq & Busta Rhymes]

Pharoahe Monch

Hip-Hop/Rap

125,524 Shazams

Music Video

Pharoahe Monch - Simon Says (Remix) Ft. Lady Luck, Redman, Method Man, Shaabam Shadeeq, Busta Rhymes
Watch {trackName} music video by {artistName}

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Pharoahe Monch
Pharoahe Monch
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Troy Donald Jamerson
Troy Donald Jamerson
Songwriter
Clifford Smith
Clifford Smith
Songwriter
Marcus Vialva
Marcus Vialva
Songwriter
Reggie Noble
Reggie Noble
Songwriter
Shanel Jones
Shanel Jones
Songwriter
Trevor Smith, Jr.
Trevor Smith, Jr.
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Pharoahe Monch
Pharoahe Monch
Producer
Lee Stone
Lee Stone
Producer

Lyrics

Get the fuck up Simon says, "Get the fuck up" Throw your hands in the sky (Bo-bo-bo-bo-bo) Queens is in the back sipping 'gnac, y'all, what's up? Girls, rub on your titties Yeah, fuck it, I said it rub on your titties New York City gritty committee pity the fool that act shitty In the midst of the calm, the witty Yo, shut the fuck up Luck said, "Shut the fuck up" Bitches in the back like crack, get it cut up I speak on behalf of them broads you call stuck up Act like a man and get cocked, smacked the fuck up Pull the truck up, Luck, you know the name Ass out in the bleachers stay shitting on the game I suppose what you're spitting is flames, cowards Knew your crew was vaginal, I could smell the douche powder Summer's Eve, I drop degrees chill Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill Stay fly till you get airsick, now that's ill Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now that's real What the fuck's going on here? Just a minute now, hold up Sinister with it, the time, I diminish him, finish him, roll up When I'm in a cinematography state of mind My rap trip, rip, flip, clip, say the rhyme Shit, I spectacular run, hit spit bitches vernacular Miraculous rhyme flow, back track to the immaculate Binaca blast nigga that's fast, son, I'll box you Ladies rub the ta-tas, bras, titties and knockers on the floor (Oww!) Fellas, pull your cock out On the verge to splurge verbs for third-round knockout Uh, I bust a rhyme that dust frustrated rappers Dust crush competition, lights out like the Clapper The mic ripper, whip a nigga like a slave Separate him from his fam He don't know how to behave now Drag his ass, bag dun for his loot Figure me to give a nigga-y twenty-one gun salute That's seven shots for 2Pac, seven for Biggie Smalls Seven for Freaky Tah up in your neighborhood malls How's that? Fat action packed rap remain tame Pharoahe fuckin' Monch, ain't a damn thing changed Yo, yo, get the fuck up Funk Doctor Spock said, "Get the fuck up" I got a bitch named Nina and I tuck her I leave a nigga hanging like your mom's muffler Snuff her, then my boys follow up Respect like The Fonz, you see the collar up (Ayeeee) I spit out a bullet, load the barrel up I kamikaze your town off a Arab bus Karat cut, yeah mami, pull over I bend your pussy like for years I knew yoga I'm too smoked up, I can't remember me Off Hennessy, that's why I carry Mini-Me I need fifty feet when my performance starts I push an armored car with Lowenharts Nineteen inches, I'm not on the charts Doc turning dark off a warning shot Drive off and pop, six in your hood Fuck the limelight, we rhyme tight, plus snatch the goods Yeah, yeah, my nigga, one rhyme and you fold over I'm hot-headed 'cause I walk with cold shoulders Yeah, get the fuck up Simon says, "Get the fuck up" Throw ya hands in the sky (Bo-bo-bo-bo-bo) Jersey in the back, jacking cars, now what's up? Girls, rub on your titties (Yeah) That's right, I said it, rub on your titties Brick City gritty committee pity the fool that act shitty In the midst of the calm, the witty Yo, yo, get the fuck up Yo, yeah, I said it, "Get the fuck up" Walk through Shaolin after dark, you get stuck up Seek and destroy, baddest boy when I'm puffed up You know my name and Pharoahe Monch, why we came, what? We off the chain, plus we plotting on the game, what? Know your role, by the way, tuck your gold And you and your mic can ease on down the road Assholes are like opinions, everybody got to have one Shooting in the sky trying to blast sun Zero to sixty in a second, pull a fast one Fifty cent flashin', they hate us with a passion Mashin', still fresh in three-day old fashion You're plaid, I'm stripes, together we be clashin' Here's a Tunnel banger Wu-Tang death penalty, the gas chamber This gon' hurt me more than it hurts you Slap you like the doctor the day your momma birthed you Just so you can feel me the same way I'ma feel this world when it kill me Even if time stands still, I'mma still be Underground and filthy, gotta have our way like the Milky Innocent until I'm proven guilty Never got caught in the game of tag Momma never kept a boyfriend with kids this bad No justice, raider ruckus Underground 'til we under ground But y'all first, motherfuckers My thugs, throw up your set And shorties rub on your breasts Get the fuck up out of that dress, I palm tits You herbs get flipped like Jeeps on mountain cliffs I'll rip through your chest, hollow-point talon tips Double-S, double the threat, double your bet Double up on that cash if you decide to invest You sound like B.I.G., you sound like Jay, you sound like D And I bet when I go plat, you'll sound like me Shabaam Sahdeeq, injure your fleet, instant delete Y'all crabs are weak, frail like a fiend's physique I stay on the street, stay on the beat, stay with the heat Stay sticking fools like you for the rocks that gleam So toss that link, dummy, should've insured that link Straight to Canal, appraise that link, then pawn that link You froze up, Sahdeeq says, "Shut the fuck up" Punk niggas get gun-butt up and tied up Busta Rhymes is like Hacksaw Jim Duggan Been thuggin', lovin' the way we flood jewels for nothin' Lay it over, another ambush and take over Yo, we don't only get money, we cut the coke and cook the shake over You better guard your head right, especially if it's late at night Or find your picture of your autopsy up on the website Yo, if you ever violate my space Fuck a fat lip, I'll leave you with a fucking fat face, nigga Busta Rhymes the handsome, I'll hold you for ransom and some Like the ghost of a haunted house, I'll forever live in a mansion Bitches, snitches coming out and you know who's showing it Like when the British civil servants pass secrets to the Soviets Y'all niggas is seamless blends of seamless friends Lip on about the results of a bunch of seamless ends Colossal, me and my nigga Pharoahe Monch-o The head honchos, getting this money like Leonardo (Do-do-do-do) Enough substance in the roughness Now watch it come around in an amazing large abundance Now let me clear the smoke screen you blow, fiend Live nigga shit that'll rebuild your whole self-esteem Pledge allegiance to the flag of united live niggas of America Let us control and own the fucking area Wild in your whip until you crash the whole truck up And if you know what's good for you, nigga You better get the fuck up
Writer(s): Troy Donald Jamerson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out