[A vocoded-out Roger Troutman sample lays the foundation for EPMD's biggest hit, a fierce challenge to rappers that water down their sound in pursuit of pop success. With their Hit Squad cronies shouting out call-and-response throughout, a huge rolling bassline and thundering beats, Erick and Parrish deliver irrefutable evidence that you don't have to pander to the mainstream to rock the crowd...]
Let's get up, let's get down
Roll with the hardcore funk, the hardcore sound
Let's get with this mackadocious funk material
So simple when I rock with the instrumental
Who am I? (E-D, the Green Eyed Bandit)
Control my career so I can never get stranded
But the rest are gettin' Brand Nubian
Changed up they style from jeans to suits and
Thinkin' about a pop record, somethin' made for the station
For a whole new relation-ship of a new type of scene
To go platinum and clock mad green
AKA, a sellout, the rap definition
Get off that boy, change your mission
Come back around the block
Pump Color Me Badd to the ah, tick tock
Let them know your logo, not a black thing
My background sing, my background sing for the crossover
The rap era's outta control, brothers sellin' their soul
To go gold, going, going, gone, another rapper sold
To pop and R&B, not the MD
I'm strictly hip-hop, I'll stick to Kid Capri
Funk mode, yea, kid, that's how The Squad rolls
I know your head is bobbin' 'cause the neck knows
(Like other rappers)
Frontin' on they fans, the ill
Trying to chill, saying "damn, it be great to sell a mill"
Thats when the mind switch to the pop tip
(Kid, you're gonna be large!)
Yeah right, that's what the company kicks
Forget the black crowds, you're wack now
In a zoot suit, frontin' black, lookin' mad foul
I speak for the hardcore
(Rough, rugged and raw)
I'm outta here, catch me chillin' on my next tour
From the US to The White Cliffs Of Dover
Strictly underground funk, keep the crossover
(So what'cha sayin')
You wanna go pop goes the weasel
You know you should be rocking the fans with something diesel
But you insist to piss me off, black
So I flex the biceps so I can push 'em back
So real hardcore hip-hop continue, wreck it
And all sucker MC's duck down, and get the message
So ban the crossover, yo, who's wit' me
(Hit Squad!)
Yeah, P, hit me
Another megablast, funky dope style from cross yonder
(So help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda)
(Yo, from what?)
The crossover, yeah, crossing you over
Outta here, go on, peace, nice to know ya
What a way to go out, no clout is what the fans will shout
'Cause you got gassed and took the wrong route
Came on the scene, chillin', freakin' a funky dope line
But when they finish with you (BEEP!) flatline
Some say there's no business like show business
But if this the truth, please explain why is this
Rappers been around long, makin' mad noise you see
Still I haven't seen one rapper livin' comfortably
No time to pick and wish on a four leaf clover
I stick to underground, keep the crossover...
