Ok, y'all, this is it now bust it

The mic will sing soon as I touch it

Do this smooth and easy like

So we might get hyped in here tonight

Be nice, relax, MC's further back

If you ain't with that

I'm-a have to attack you with a bad rap

That can smack the smile off your face Jack

So don't start no crap

Givin' a little bit of heart and soul

As we do it to you in your earhole

Huh, I ain't going out like a sucker

And if you think so, boy, then pucker up

And kiss the butt of this lyricist

Blow on the mic and make a wish

This groove is set to soothe and move you

Party people now it's time to



Get up, I think the sound will make you

Get up, word up, I swear you got to

Get up, everybody get up

Get up, everybody get up

Get up, everybody get up



Spinderella my DJ's a turntable trooper

My partner Pepa she's a power booster

Word to life, I swear, she'll seduce ya

Don't take my word, I'll introduce her

I don't need no introduction, I just bust in

Grab a microphone and then start dustin'

So-called lyricists can never deal with this

Swift-lipped vocalists either and also if

I was a mute, I'd still knock boots

Put up your dukes, troop, and I'm-a play ya like a flute

To show you all on me you can't sleep on

Spinderella, please drop some beats on

This crowd, pump it up loud

Gimme a scratch, ok now

It's time for hell to be raised

As I kick some lyrics on the beats Hurb made

Salt's at my side with a shotgun

A little action? I just had some

What can I say? The girl don't play

Gonna skip town on Judgement Day

So don't just sit there like a poo-putt stupid

The record's called "Get Up", I think you better do it



Get up, everybody get up

Get up, everybody get up

Get up, everybody get up



Salty that's me flippin' on MCs

I'm not gonna waste your time on the strength, I'll be

Def, dumb, dope, completely phenominal

You didn't know? Yeah, right, come on now

Oh, I'm supposed to believe E-M-C-E-E's

Are glad Salt is makin' G's?

Save that crap, I got my public to rap to

Tried to play me out, I ought to slap you, punk

For being disrespectful

I grip the microphone like a pitbull terrier

Yes, but I'm scarier, under a ton of rhymes I'll bury ya

Hyped like a poet, on the mic I'll show it

Do-re-mi fa-so-la ti-do it

Jazz, rhythm, blues, soul, pop, rock 'n roll, even hip-hop

Lovers, are my brothers and sisters

All in all over ten billion listeners

Lend me your ear when you want to hear

The hypest and ripest sound of the year



Get up, everybody get up...