Salt and pepaâs on the mic makinâ sure you like
The type of hype thatâs unbelievable to write
Spinderellaâs gonna spin from beginning to end
Once again, weâre gonna let the party begin
So tell me pepa, are you ready to work it out?
You know it salt, Iâm 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, Iâm like a billion bulbs
The rhymes I toss, theyâre more electric than a lightning bug
On the strength I swore thereâs no either/or
Mcs, weâre gonna have a mouth-to-mouth war
Some rappers got soul on the mic, right? (right)
But others be playinâ it like theyâre all that
And you know whatâll happen if I donât like your style of rappinâ
Step on stage as soon as Iâm 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 âround the world, I like to play to âem
In every club, arena, and stadium
Inside the jam weâre known as the party stars
Gimme a mic, and the house is like mardi gras
I couldnât 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, câmon pep, go ahead and bust one
If the pep you want, thatâs just what youâll get
As the rhythm runs, sweatâs in full effect
I see a crowd, I canât help but get hyped
You gotta be, throw it on and recite
A dope rhmye cuz Iâm a lyrical queen
The pepa mcâs makinâ 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 âem run
Mess around and Iâll bet you donât get none
Is it over yet? never, it gets better
Weâll let the rhythm run harder than ever
A bassline is added for some soul
Now the guitar will make ya rock ân roll
My mic is like a gun, I go nowhere without it
You gotta better one, Iâm sorry but I doubt it
My partnerâs name is pep, sheâs not a half-stepper
You think youâre kinda def, but I think that sheâs deffer
Since rappinâ is art and Iâm a dope artist
If lyrics mean youâre smart, then I must be the smartest
My dj likes to spin, we call her spinderella
If cuttinâ âem was a book, sheâd be a million seller
Saltâs kinda short, but she donât 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, itâs not a dance lesson
Seatbelts fastened, letâs have some fun
Brace yourself, hold on, cuz the rhythmâs gonna run
Let the rhythm run, nah, the rhythmâs done
Let the drums run, no, the drums are done