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Versuri Solo power (lets get paid)
- Salt N Pepa


p had to step, she'll be back in a sec.

But in the meantime, I like to have sound check.

One-two's what I say as the record gets played.

For a little bit to make sure it stays on track.

The wax can't be scratched unless Spin is there.

So she can catch it on time so then I can rhyme.

The vocalist on the mic is me.

I'm the short and sexy one in effect.

About to bring it to you straight up, wait up.

You ready? Huh, it's time to pay up.

The capital S gonna spot.

I'm here to wreck shop [Salt, where's Pepa?].

Yo, she's at the next stop.

So all aboard, grab a seat and get set.

Spinderella, start it up, now let's check.

Overdrive, rhyme after rhyme, I'm still the best.

I'm holdin' down camp keepin' punks in check.

So snap out of it, me the soloist for what?.

Salt and Pepa with mics, Spinderella with cuts.

Let's get paid, get paid.

Yeah, comin' in and goin' in, growin' in and throwin' in.

We got the flavor, and everyday we're showin' it.

So just stay back cuz Salt ain't takin' no fronts.

Cuz I'm dope, I look good, and I'm paid to be blunt.

Reigning supreme, all hail the queens from Queens.

You think it's def now? Wait till Pepa steps on the scene.

So petty rappers take a seat, make sure you sit up straight.

The name Salt and Pepa, the year '88.

Let's get paid, get paid.

Doin' the chores on behalf of my partner.

Like money in the bank so thanks, now I'm a spark of the ashes.

Strike the match, light the fuse.

Spinderella, me, and Pep singing the Get Paid blues.

To the petty I'm like a machete making confetti.

Cuz you don't see Pepa, punk, step up, you still ain't ready.

You want a piece of what the Salt releases?.

Take a chunk, punk, and now you're leaving in pieces.

Step left, jet poo-putt-putt in your Nova.

Before you thought, think again, you won't get over.

With a clover, four-leaf, chief, to be brief.

Yo, Pepa hurry up and come and get a piece of this mic.

Cuz I'm hoggin' it, Holmes start loggin' it.

They wanna know do I rock? Salt be doggin' it.

Shakin' and bakin' the mic just like a chef.

I'll rock this beat until there ain't none left.

Let's get paid, get paid.

Let's get paid, get paid.

If I run out of breath, I take a pause.

If Pepa's on stage I say "Go for yours".

But if she ain't then this mic I'm minin'.

I say "Spin, drop it" and keep rhymin'.

When Pepa comes back she'll say "Salt, chill".

Grab the mic, and go for the kill.

But you're lucky cuz she ain't back yet.

Relax, men, you're a nervous wreck.

Wipe the sweat off your face and stop panickin'.

You look scared, stiff as a manequin.

But still you're back again to see me rap again.

Spin, cut the final hit, let's just pack 'em in.

Cuff 'em and stuff 'em, they know I still love 'em.

If they can't stand the heat well then chuck 'em.

Salt and Pepa, Spinderella came here to tell ya.

Let's get paid, get paid.

Let's get paid, get paid