Released: October 19, 1999

Songwriter: Pharoahe Monch

Producer: Pharoahe Monch

[Produced by Pharoahe Monch]

[Intro]
Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh
Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh
Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh
Uh-uh, uh-uh, ahh

[Chorus]
Get the fuck up
Simon says, "Get the fuck up"
Throw your hands in the sky (Buck-buck-buck-buck-buck)
Queens is in the back sipping 'gnac, y'all, what's up?
Girls, rub on your titties (Yeah)
Yeah, I said it, rub on your titties
New York City gritty committee pity the fool
That act shitty in the midst of the calm, the witty

[Verse 1]
Y'all know the name (Uh)
Pharoahe fuckin' Monch, ain't a damn thing changed (Uh)
You all up in ya Range and shit, inebriated (Uh-huh)
Strayed from your original plan, you deviated
I alleviated the pain with long-term goals
Took my underground loot, without the gold
You sold Platinum 'round the world, I sold wood in the hood
But when I'm in the street and shit, it's all good
I'm soon to motivate a room, control the game like Tomb Raider
Rock, clock dollars, flip tips like a waiter
Block shots, style's greater, let my lyrics anoint
If you holding up the wall, then you missin' the point

[Chorus]
Get the fuck up
Simon says, "Get the fuck up"
Put your hands to the sky (Buck-buck-buck-buck-buck)
Brooklyn in the back shooting craps now, what's up?
Girlies, rub on your titties (Yeah)
Yeah, fuck it, I said rub on your titties
New York City gritty committee pity the fool
That act shitty in the midst of the calm, the witty

[Verse 2]
Yo, where you at? (Yo, where you at?) Uptown, let me see 'em
Notorious for the six-fives and the BMs
Heads give you beef, you put 'em in the mausoleum
And shit don't start pumping 'til after 12 p.m. 
Uh, ignorant minds, I free 'em
If you tired of the same old everyday, you will agree I'm
The most obligated, hard and R-rated
Slated to be the best, I must confess, the star made it
Some might even say this song is sexist-es
'Cause I asked the girls to rub on their breast-eses
Whether you're riding the train or a Lexus-es
This is for either or Rollies or Timex-eses
Wicked like Exorcist, this is the joint
You holding up the wall then you missing the point

[Chorus]
Get the fuck up
Simon says, "Get the fuck up"
Throw your hands in the sky (Buck-buck-buck-buck-buck)
The Bronx is in the back shooting craps now, what's up?
Girls, rub on your titties (Yeah)
I said, rub on your titties
New York City gritty committee pity the fool
That act shitty in the midst of the calm, the witty

[Outro]
New Jeruz (Get the fuck up)
Shaolin, yeah (Get the fuck up)
Long Isle, c'mon (Get the fuck up)
Worldwide, c'mon, c'mon (Get the fuck up)

Pharoahe Monch

Troy “Pharoahe Monch” Jamerson is a near-universally loved and respected underground rapper. He released three extremely well-regarded albums with the duo Organized Konfusion in the 1990’s, including the classic The Extinction Agenda

Since the group’s demise, he’s released several fantastic albums' worth of boom-bap beats (occasionally with a gospel touch, as on 2007’s Desire), dense wordplay, political musings, military metaphors, and thoughts on the state of radio and today’s hip-hop ( he doesn’t like it very much)