lt and Pepa's on the mic makin' sure you like.
The type of hype that's unbelievable to write.
Spinderella's gonna spin from beginning to end.
Once again, we're gonna let the party begin.
So tell me Pepa, are you ready to work it out?.
You know it Salt, I'm ready to work it out.
Spinderella, are you ready to work it out?.
Cuz Salt and Pepa is ready to work it out.
So let the rhythm run (what?), the rhythm run.
Now let the drums run (good), the drums run.
So let the rhythm run (huh?), the rhythm run.
Yo, Salt.. Whassup? Can we get some?.
They call me Salt, I'm like a billion bulbs.
The rhymes I toss, they're more electric than a lightning bug.
On the strength I swore there's no either/or.
MCs, we're gonna have a mouth-to-mouth war.
Some rappers got soul on the mic, right? (Right).
But others be playin' it like they're all that.
And you know what'll happen if I don't like your style of rappin'.
Step on stage as soon as I'm on it.
Spin drops a beat to warn my opponent.
Hurb pumps the bass upon the sound system.
We kick a rhyme and claim another victim.
People 'round the world, I like to play to 'em.
In every club, arena, and stadium.
Inside the jam we're known as the party stars.
Gimme a mic, and the house is like Mardi Gras.
I couldn't do it though without the help from.
The melody that we call the rhythm.
Yo, Pepa, are you ready to work it out, huh?.
Yeah, I been ready to work it out.
So let the rhythm run (what?), the rhythm run (who?).
Aw, c'mon Pep, go ahead and bust one.
If the Pep you want, that's just what you'll get.
As the rhythm runs, sweat's in full effect.
I see a crowd, I can't help but get hyped.
You gotta be, throw it on and recite.
A dope rhmye cuz I'm a lyrical queen.
The Pepa MC's makin' microphones sing.
Notes to provoke, they called her a joke.
The speaker smoked when I spoke.
Boy, you better kill the noise.
Let the rhythm run (word), just let it run.
Let the drums run (yeah), now let 'em run.
Mess around and I'll bet you don't get none.
Is it over yet? Never, it gets better.
We'll let the rhythm run harder than ever.
A bassline is added for some soul.
Now the guitar will make ya rock 'n roll.
My mic is like a gun, I go nowhere without it.
You gotta better one, I'm sorry but I doubt it.
My partner's name is Pep, she's not a half-stepper.
You think you're kinda def, but I think that she's deffer.
Since rappin' is art and I'm a dope artist.
If lyrics mean you're smart, then I must be the smartest.
My DJ likes to spin, we call her Spinderella.
If cuttin' 'em was a book, she'd be a million seller.
Salt's kinda short, but she don't ever take none.
A sucker try to dis, and she just have to break one.
Assume the position, commence the dance session.
Loosen up, listen, it's not a dance lesson.
Seatbelts fastened, let's have some fun.
Brace yourself, hold on, cuz the rhythm's gonna run.
Let the rhythm run, nah, the rhythm's done.
Let the drums run, no, the drums are done