[Intro: Erik Sermon (Parrish Smith)]
(You Gots to Chill)
Checka one-two, checka one-two
Turn me up, a lil' more
Check it, check it, check it
(Blackout)

[Verse 1: Erick Sermon & Parrish Smith]
As I step to the mic with the b-boy stance
To the braveheart MCs, I wouldn't take a chance
Keep quiet while the MC rap
And if you disrespect me, it's the big payback
The E double E is my name, I spell
Thanks to the clientele, my Squad rocks well
I'm in your hood, coming through like what?
Chromed out, beamed out in an all black truck
You a player? What team you with?
I got major chips, I push the fliest whips
Got the fliest chicks, my outfits be freshly dipped
No matter what the steez, I'm equipped
Well my name is M-D, I'm known as the motivator
Funky beat maker, new jack terminator
Enjoy to destroy because your rhymes are toy
Never sweating no click (Why P?) 'Cause I'm a b-boy
When we on the scene, we always rock the spot
The Green-Eyed Bandit, Scratch and Mic Doc
In the beginning we had to let the world know
Now, EPMD is clocking all the dough
Sit back and relax, of course the biz phat
TV with the phone in the back
Always calm under pressure, no need to act ill
Listen when I tell you boy, You Gots to Chill
{"Jungle Boogie"}

[Verse 2: Erick Sermon & Parrish Smith]
I be the fly rhyme maker, female heartbreaker
The dude want to play me and my crew, that's rude
I'm dope, when I get down to the beat
I'm raw, I keep it hardcore for the streets
My track's a miracle drug for thugs in the clubs
(Yo E, I remember when they used to be scrubs, what up?)
I'm the big bear and some of y'all are baby cubs
Talking large money when I seen your bank stubs
I take control of your body and soul
Pack heat in my pants when it's time to roll
Well it's P, Double-E, M-D-E-E
Here to bless the track and flip the flow with E
When we touch the microphone, no doubt we always shine
Jewels and rhymes, setting traps and land mines
Did thousand of shows, laced many places
EPMDs back and yo, throw the tape in
'Cause when we come around, we always come with the flavor
Underground hardcore funk, that's what we gave you
Or give you, aiyo what's next on the menu
Business to tend to, stadiums and venues
With E and I'm the microphone doc
And the capital E, capital P, capital M, D
There's no doubt, the world shocker
Hit Squad and Def Squad, yeah we both get ill
So believe me when I tell you boy, You Gots to Chill
{"Jungle Boogie"}

[Verse 3: Erick Sermon & Parrish Smith]
Yo, I'm in the house now
Dudes with ice grills raise they eyebrow, amazed like, "Wow!"
E and P return like D
Last Dragon to show MCs just what's happening
I get biz and that's an natural fact
I'm like Zorro, I mark an E on your back
Worse than that, I crown those wannabe gangsters
Say something to 'em and run right through 'em
I'm making crazy G's politicking on my mobile phone
The E-Double about the microphone
'Cause we're the funky rhyme maker, puffing Garcia Vegas
The one who rocks the fisherman hat
I grab the mic and make the crowd react
We keep the money stacking, fingers snapping toes tapping
When it's time to roll, uzi patrol, we're still packing
EPMD, the mic's our only friend
Took a break for a while and now we back again
So if you think about gambling, you better come prepared
EPMD's taking all the shares, You Gots to Chill